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CAMBRIPQE LITERATURE 
«««SER1ES««« 



^?~ 



■nr- 



No. 5. 



V£V 



■yr 



Longfellow's 



Evangeline 



* 




Published Monthly at 110 Boylston Street. Subscription 
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Entered at Post Office as second-class matter. 



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the Cambridge Eitcraturc Series. 

EDITED BY 

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GOLDSMITH. - Vicar of Wakefield. 

LONGFELLOW. — Evangeline. 

LOWELL. — Vision of Sir Launfal. 

M AC AUL AY.— Essays on Milton and Addison, 

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M<XA~Sif .tyl .^^-^P' 



Number 5 



EVANGELINE 



A Tale of Acadie 



BY 



HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW 



EDITED WITH INTRODUCTION AND NOTES BY 

AGNES LATHE, A. M 

Late Associate Professor of English 
Woman's College, Baltimore 



ov 716XX alia rcoXv 




BENJ. H. SANBORN & CO. 
BOSTON, U. S. A. 






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Copyright, 1899. 



By Agnes Lathe, 



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COSTTEl^TS. 



Introduction : 






PAGE 


I. 


Life of Longfellow 








II. 








xi 




1. The Origin of the Poem 




xi 




2. The Historical Basis 


OF 


the Poem 


xii 




3. The Measure 






xvii 




4. Critical Comments . 
Suggestions for Study 






xviii 


III. 






xxviii 


IV. 








xxxii 


EVANGE 


line .... .... 






1 


Notes 








121 



SECOND COP*. 



INTRODUCTION. 






I. LONGFELLOW. 

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow was bom in 
Portland, Maine, February 27, 1807. His early life 
was that of a studious boy in a family of means and 
refinement. He prepared for college at the Portland 
Academy, and at the age of fourteen passed the 
entrance examinations of Bowdoin. It was in the 
previous year that he had the pleasure for the first 
time of seeing lines of his own in print. The poem 
was LovelVs Fight, and it appeared in the Portland 
Gazette. " I have never since," said Longfellow years 
afterward, " had such a thrill of delight over any of 
my publications." During his college course he con- 
tributed to various periodicals, but most abundantly to 
the United States Literary Gazette of Boston. He 
graduated second in a class of thirty-eight, and was 
awarded the English Oration in the Commencement 
parts. A more important recognition of his ability 

• 

1 



11 LONGFELLOW. 

was the proposition from the college that after study 
abroad he should return as Professor of Modern Lan- 
guages. No offer could have been more in harmony 
with his tastes and desires. Accordingly in the spring 
of 1826 he sailed for Europe. 

After three years of study and travel in England 
and in Southern Europe, Longfellow began his work 
in Bowdoin. There, teaching in the class-room and as- 
sisting in the library, he remained until his growing 
reputation won him a call from Harvard University. 
Before entering upon this larger held, he needed op- 
portunity for further study ; and therefore, in April, 
1835, for the second time he crossed the ocean. This 
trip, though saddened by the death of Mrs. Longfel- 
low in November, after four years of married life, was 
no less productive than the first one. For in the 
eighteen months of his sojourn Longfellow deepened 
his knowledge of German, and made himself ac- 
quainted with the countries and literatures of North- 
ern Europe. 

The years from L826 to L836 were fundamental to 
Longfellow. In them he gathered his material, and 
learned how to use 1 it. He stored his mind with the 
richness of the Old World, and by beaching and writ- 
ing made it a part of himself; thus he laid the foun- 
dation of liberal culture upon which he based all his 



INTR OB UCTION. Ill 

later work. This deeade, however, was riot marked by 
poetic production. With the exception of a little trans- 
lation, Longfellow expressed himself in prose. He 
edited text-books ; he wrote articles upon the French 
Language, the Spanish Language and Literature, 
the Italian Language and Dialects, and upon other 
subjects closely connected with his profession. In 
his leisure moments he collected and published in 
1835, under the title of Outre Mer, the reminiscences 
of his first European visit. Four years later he em- 
bodied in the romance of Hyperion the records of his 
second trip. These sketches of travel disclose also 
Longfellow's inner life. Personal experience dictated 
the well-known motto of Hyperion, — " Look not 
mournfully into the Past. It comes not back again. 
Wisely improve the Present. It is thine. Go forth 
to meet the shadowy Future without fear and with a 
manly heart." Yet the chief value of the books con- 
sists in the revelation that they make of their author's 
mental equipment, of his romantic tendencies, and of 
his perception of literary art. 

Thus it was only after long training in prose that 
Longfellow put forth his first book of verse. This 
volume, Voices of the Night, was published in 1839, 
and within seven years was followed by five others. 
It is not necessary to delay upon the Poems of Sla- 



IV LONGFELLOW. 

very, a conscientious effort in tke cause of freedom, 
nor* to comment upon the Spanish Student, save to 
say that the poet was not a dramatist. It was the 
other publications, the Ballads and the Belfry of 
Bruges, that indicated clearly the path in which Long- 
fellow's ability lay and its marked characteristics. 
His indebtedness to foreign poets, especially to the 
German, and his lyric skill in interpreting them, was 
shown in the numerous translations. The Little sermons 
in rhyme, The Psalm of Life and Excelsior, which 
brought him immediate popularity, revealed his moral 
earnestness. Poems such us Maidenhood, Resigna- 
tion, and Haunted Houses, disclosed the delicacy of 
his touch in verse of sentiment- and religion. And 
the Ballads, with the Skeleton in Armor at their head, 
proved his power to tell a story in strong, direct, Lan- 
guage. 

In these early volumes the old World suggested 
many of the themes, and the Lyric form furnished them 
appropriate expression. During the next ten years 
Longfellow turned to narrative poetry, and chose his 
subjects from this side of the Atlantic. The first of 
these New World poems was Evangeline. 'The canst 1 
of its popularity, both immediate and lasting, to- 
gether with an appreciation of its place in American 
Literature, is accurately given by Brander Matthews 



INTRODUCTION. • V 

in the words, "It was the most beautiful and the 
most touching tale in verse yet told by any American 
poet, and its charm was increased greatly by the skill 
with which the natural scenery of America and our 
varying seasons, was used to furnish a background." 
The national note was more strongly struck in the 
Building of the Ship, the chief poem in the volume 
of 1850. That the idea is akin to Schiller's in the 
Lay of the Bell, and that the construction is modelled 
after the celebrated ode of Horace, in no way detracts 
from the value of the poem. Its patriotism is noble 
in quality, and is expressed in an artistic form which 
appeals to every age and class. All Americans agree 
with Oliver Wendell Holmes in finding in it " the 
classical expression of patriotic emotion." From pat- 
riotism and love, themes sung by generations of poets,. 
Longfellow turned to a subject new and unique. In 
his journal he wrote, " I have at length hit upon a 
plan for a poem on the American Indian which seems 
to me the right one and the only. It is to weave to- 
gether their beautiful traditions into a whole. I 
have hit upon a measure, too, which I think the right 
and only one, for such a theme." His confidence in 
his plan and metre was amply justified, and in Hia- 
watha he had the distinction of contributing to Ameri- 
can Literature the one important poem upon the Indian. 



vi . LONGFELLOW. 

Three vears later he took as the basis for a New 
England idyl the prettiest incident in the history of 
the grim Pilgrims. The verse of Miles Standish is 
undoubtedly labored and uneven, yet in many ways 
the poem is stronger than Evangeline, The struc- 
ture of the story is more compact, the characters are 
more natural. And the air of humor pervading the 
poem not only is an additional charm, but also serves 
to remind us that the Puritan, too, had his season of 
vouth and romance. 

So customary is it to dwell upon Longfellow as a 
poet, that Longfellow in the common relations of life 
is often overlooked. It should, however, be borne in 
mind that he was engaged daily in professional 
duties. In addition to supervising the work in his 
department, he sometimes taught, and each term gave, 
one or more courses of lectures. Soon after begin- 
ning his work at Harvard, he went to live at the 
Traigie House, a mansion of historic interest as 
Washington's headquarters in 177(>. To the young 
man in search of rooms Mrs. Craigie responded, "I 
never have students to live with me." But when she 
learned that the applicant was Professor Longfellow, 
the old lady relented and said, " If you are the author 
of Outre-Mer, then you can come." In L843, upon 
his marriage with .Miss Frances Appleton of Boston, 



INTBOBUCriON. Vll 

the house passed into his own hands, and soon became 
a literary centre. Writing of social relationships in 
one of his early letters, Longfellow said, " I like inti- 
mate footings, I do not care for general society." 
Chief among those on " intimate footings " was Charles 
Sumner. Another not infrequent visitor was Haw- 
thorne. In fact, in the long list of friends and ac- 
quaintances were most of the American men of letters 
of the century. Prescott, Norton, Agassiz, Fields, 
Lowell, Holmes, and Emerson are but a few of our 
own countrymen who were welcomed at Craigie 
House ; from across the water came Clough, Dickens, 
Thackeray, Froude, and indeed almost every English- 
man of literary prominence. That Longfellow, bur- 
dened with so many professional and social claims, 
was yet able to write so much and to maintain so 
high a standard was due to his habit of regular work. 
He was orderly and methodical, and a consistent 
hater of procrastination, believing firmly in the maxim 
used as a text for his last prose work, Kavanagh : — 

' ' The fhghtly purpose never is overtook 
Unless the deed go with it." 

* 

Notwithstanding his well-ordered days, Longfellow 
felt the need of time and strength for purely literary 
production. Accordingly in 1854 he resigned his 




Vlll LONGFELLOW. 

professorship. Hiawatha and Miles Standish, the 
first fruits of his freedom, were followed in 1863 by 
Tales of a Wayside Inn. Two years before occurred 
the tragedy of Mrs. Longfellow's death. As she was 
amusing the children by making some seals, the hot 
wax fell upon her light summer dress, and she was so 
severely burned that she died within a few hours. In 
his sorrow, Longfellow turned to daily work upon the 
Divine Comedy. It is often said that this transla- 
tion was the result of ten minutes' labor each morn- 
ing while the coffee was coming to the boiling-point. 
There may be truth in this statement, but it should 
be remembered that these ten minutes had been pre- 
pared for by years of study. The first of the Dante 
volumes was ready for the press in 1867, and the 
other two were completed in 1872. In 1868 Long- 
fellow made his last visit to the Old World. Since 
the third brief trip of 1842 his fame had crossed the 
ocean, and he was everywhere welcomed with honor. 
The University of Cambridge added its degree of 
Doctor of Laws to that conferred upon him in 1859 
by Harvard University, and Oxford gave him the title 
of Doctor of Civil Laws. 

From Longfellow's return in 1869 to his death 
there is little to chronicle. The events of these clos- 
ing years were his poems. Advancing age did not 



INTRODUCTION. IX 

- dim his artistic sense or diminish his industry. 
The most ambitious of his latest verse was Christies, 
a Trilogy, comprising the Divine Tragedy, the Golden 
I^egend, published separately in 1851, and the New 
England Tragedies. Of far greater value were his 
sonnets, which, though few in number, are of high 
rank. The six composed for the Dante volumes, to- 
gether with Nature and Victor and Vanquished, are 
especially fine. His last volume, Ultima Thule, is- 
sued in 1880, indicated by its title his perception 
that his course in life was nearly run. The end, how- 
ever, was not until a year later. Then a cold devel- 
oped into pneumonia. A short illness, a few days of 
alarm, and on March 24, 1882, the bells of Cam- 
bridge tolled his death. 

In any just estimate of Longfellow's work, acknowl- 
edgment must be made of his great indebtedness to 
other writers. His early prose shows the influence 
of Irving ; his early verse of Bryant. After foreign 
study had' made him familiar with European Litera- 
ture, he borrowed from it many a form and metre, 
many an idea. Of this he made no secret, for he was 
not unduly anxious to be either national or original. 
He stated his literary creed in Kavanagh. u All 
that is best in the great poets of all countries is not 
what is national in them, but what is universal. Their 






X LONGFELLOW. 

roots are in their native soil ; but their branches wave 
in the unpatriotic air that speaks the same language 
unto all men . . . All literature as well as all art is 
the result of culture and intellectual refinement." 

This conception of literature reveals the character- 
istics of the poet. It contains the answer to the ques- 
tion, What was Longfellow's gift to American Letters ? 
What did he contribute to our Literature ? He con- 
tributed, first of all, culture and refinement. His 
training, his wide knowledge, his appropriating tal- 
ent, his fastidious taste, all combined to make him an 
artist in poetry. It enabled him to enrich the meagre 
literature of his own land and time with the wealth of 
other ages. But he was not simply or chiefly an expo- 
nent of beauty. No apostle of culture, merely, would 
have attained his wide popularity or his deep hold. 
His secure place in the affections of the people is due 
largely to the themes of which he sang. These, se- 
lected with wise recognition of his own powers, were 
within the range of the average reader. He voiced 
the tranquil sentiments, the domestic affections, the 
inevitable sorrows common to all, dear to all. He 
refined, he beautified, he dignified the universal ex- 
periences of life. Hence he was a welcome guest 
at every fireside, and his verse became a household 
service. 



ii 



INTRODUCTION. XI 



II. STUDY OF EVANGELINE. 

1. THE ORIGIN OF THE POEM. 

The first record of the unfortunate Acadian lovers 
was made by Hawthorne, October -24, 1839, in his 
American Note-Book. Just when the story was 
given by him to Longfellow is nowhere stated, but 
the circumstances of its transference are related by 
Samuel Longfellow in his Life and Letters of his 
brother. " Mr. Hawthorne came one day to dine at 
Craigie House, bringing with him his friend Mr. H. 
L. Connolly. At dinner Connolly said he had been 
trying in vain to interest ' Hawthorne to write a story 
upon an incident which had been related to him by a 
parishioner of his. It was the story of a young Aca- 
dian maiden, who, at the dispersion of her people 
by the English troops, had been separated from her 
betrothed lover ; they sought each other for years in 
their exile ; and at last they met in a hospital where 
the lover lay dying. Mr. Longfellow was touched by 
the story, especially by the constancy of the heroine, 
and said to his friend, ' If you really do not want this 
incident for a tale, let me have it for a poem. 7 " 

The sources from which Longfellow gathered the 



xii LONGFELLOW. 

material for his poem are well known. " As far as I 
remember,'' lie said, "the authorities I mostly relied 
.upon in writing Evangeline were the Abbe Raynal 
and Mr. Haliburton ; the first for the pastoral, simple 
life of the Acadian s ; the second for the history of 
their banishment." The Indian legends he found in 
Schoolcraft's Algie Researches, to. which he was later 
so greatly indebted for the myths and traditions of 
Hiawatha. And for the last scene he drew upon a 
reminiscence of a visit in 182G to Philadelphia. There 
in a morning stroll he happened upon the almshouse/ 
a large building surrounded by trees. " The charming 
picture of lawn, flower-beds, and shade which it pre- 
sented made an impression which has never left me, 
and when I came to write Evangeline \. placed the 
final scene, the meeting between Evangeline and Ga- 
briel and the death, at the poorhouse ; and the burial 
in an old Catholic graveyard not far away, which I 
Tound by chance in another of my walks." 

The references to the poem in Longfellow's journal 
are not numerous. The first one is that of November 
28, 1845, " Set about Gabrielle, my idyl in hexameters." 
A few days later he wrote, "I know not what name to 
give my new poem. Shall it be i Gabrielle\ or ' Celes* 
tine," 1 or 'Evangeline ' ? r During the next year he men- 
tioned it but a few times, the most significant not< 



i 



IN TB OB UC TIO N. Xlll 

being those of December 17th and 19th. " I see a di- 
orama of the Mississippi advertised. The river comes 
to me instead of my u going to the river." " Went to 
see Banvard's moving diorama of the Mississippi. 
One seems to be sailing down the great stream, and 
sees the boats and the sand-banks crested with cotton- 
wood and the bayous by moonlight." On February 27, 
1847, his fortieth birthday, he closed the subject with 
the words, " Evangelins is ended. I wrote the last 
words this morning." 

2. HISTORICAL BASIS OF THE POEM. 

In 1713 the land now known as Nova Scotia, but 
formerly called Acadie, was ceded by France to Great 
Britain. The English did not, however, begin to 
make settlements until 1749, when they laid the foun- 
dations of Halifax, and began to exercise control over 
the country. Disputes immediately arose between 
them and the French colonists, and in these contro- 
versies the loyalty of the Acadians became of great 
importance. These people, allied to the French by 
nationality and by religion, refused the oath of alle- 
giance to the English, and claimed the right of remain- 
ing neutral. This claim the Government would no 
longer allow. Its statement of the affair is given thus 
by Haliburton : — 



XIV LONGFELLOW. 

" That the Acadians' being permitte d to hold their 
lands after the treaty of Utrecht (1713), by which the 
Province was ceded to Great Britain, upon condition 
of their taking the oath of allegiance, refused to com- 
ply except with the qualification that they should not 
be compelled to bear arms in defenci the pro- 

vince; — That from this circumstance they affected 
the character of Neutrals, yet furnished the French 
and Indians with intelligence, quarter, provisions, and 
assistance in annoying the Governmenl of the Prov- 
ince; and that three hundred of them were actually 
found in arms at Beau Sejour. That notwithstanding 
an offer was made to such of them as had not been 
openly in arms to be allowed to continue in possession 
of their land, if they would take the oath of allegiance 
without any qualifications, they unanimously refused." 

The English found themselves confronted with a 
difficult political problem. What should be dour 
with these people? The circumstances were unusual 
and perplexing. The Acadians had refused the oath, 
hence they were not British subjects, and could not be 
punished as rebels. Neither were they prisoners of 
war; for their neutrality had been accepted for nearly 
half a century, and therefore they could not be i 
turned to France. For the English to send them 
against their will to the French colonies in C la or 



INTRODUCTION. XV 

Louisburg was to increase the number of their own 
foes ; whereas to permit them to remain as neutrals 
in Acadia was to allow a permanent ground for hostile 
attack. After much deliberation the Colonial Gov- 
ernment decided to disperse them among the English 
colonies at such a distance that they could not come 
back, and with such secrecy and rapidity that none 
could escape. This task was assigned to Lieutenant- 
Colonel John Winslow, who at that time was assist- 
ing the English in Nova Scotia with two battalions 
of New England troops. 

The execution of this scheme was postponed until 
the harvest should be gathered. Then, that all the 
inhabitants of the different settlements might be cap- 
tured at one time, stratagem was used. A proclama- 
tion was issued summoning all the men, old and young, 
as well as boys of ten, to meet in their respective 
churches upon September 5, 1755, and hear a message 
from the Governor. In Grancl-Pre, after the guard 
had been stationed, Colonel Winslow arose and told 
the assembled men that in a few days they were to be 
dispersed among the English colonies and that mean- 
while they were to remain as prisoners in the church. 
Five days later, upon September 10, they were hurried 
upon the boats. In the haste and confusion, further 
complicated by the difference of language, children 



xvi LONGFELLOW. 

were separated from parents, wives from husbands, 
and in some cases thev were never reunited. The 
exiles were scattered among the colonies of Massa- 
chusetts Bay, Connecticut, New Pork, Pennsylvania, 
Maryland, Virginia, North Carolina, and Georgia, and 
some wandered as far south as Louisiana. 

The details of this tragedy may be found in An His- 
torical and Statistical Account of Nova ScoTia. by 
Thomas C. Haliburton. Another statement of the 
case, founded upon Haliburton, is contained in an ar- 
ticle upon Evangeline in the North American Review 
for 1848. The latest and besl account is given by 
Parkman in Wolfe and Montcalm^ Vol. I. He shows 
that the struggle for Acadia was an inevitable inci- 
dent in the long contest between the French and 
English for the possession of Canada; and thai the 
Acadians, at once the dupes and tools of the French, 
wore out by their obstinacy the long forbearance of 
the English. Though this presentation of the affair is 
of value historically, it is not of vital importance in 
the consideration of Evangeline. The question for the 
student is not, Who are the authorities upon Acadian 
history to-day, and what facts and explanations do 
they present? but, Who was the historian whom 
Longfellow followed, and what use did he make of the 
material? It was Haliburton's history, published in 




INTRODUCTION. XV11 

1829, authoritative still in 1845, upon which Longfel- 
low depended for his incidents and his point of view. 
Hence this resume has been taken largely from Hali- 
burton, and copious extracts from him have been 
given in the notes. 

3. THE MEASURE. 

The metre of Evangeline is hexameter ; that is, each 
line or verse is made up of six feet. The first four of 
these may be either dactyls or spondees, the fifth, 
should be regularly a dactyl, and the sixth must 
always be a spondee. - A dactyl consists of three 
syllables, the first one accented and the last two 
unaccented, as in the word " company." A spondee 
consists of two accented syllables, as in the word 
i( motion." It will be readily seen that the first line 
of Evangeline is dactylic, and that the fourth is an 
excellent example of spondaic hexameter. 

According to Matthew Arnold, English hexameters 
should be such " as to read themselves without neces- 
sity on the reader's part for any. non-natural putting-on 
or taking-off accent." This does not mean that they 
should be given in a monotonous sing-song, or that the 
voice should be dropped abruptly at the end of each 
line. The intelligent reader will naturally linger over 
the first half of the line, pause in the middle, and 



xviii LONGFELLOW. 

hasten gently over the latter half. Thus read, the 
smoothness and musical beauty of the verse will be 
brought out. 

The hexameter has never been a favorite measure 
in English poetry. It is interesting to note, however, 
that after Longfellow's success*, several English poets 
a;t?mpted its use, the most notable being Charles 
Kingsley in his Andromeda, and Arthur Hugh ("lough 
in his pastoral, The Bothie of Tober~na-Vuolich. 'Flu 1 
latter acknowledged his indebtedness in a Letter to 
Emerson: "Will you convey to Mr. Longfellow the 
fact that it was a reading of his Eoangeline aloud to 
my mother and sister, which, coming after a reperusal 
of the Iliad, occasioned this outbreak of • hexame- 
ters ? " 

4. CRITICAL COMMENT8. 

The student of Evangeline is fortunate in having 
together with the completed poem the historic inci- 
dent from which it was developed. For by comparing 

the two, the finished product with the crude material, 
he may see a poem in the making, and thus gain sonic 
slight insight into Longfellow's methods, and some 
small appreciation of the literary excellences of 
Evangeline. 

The original tale viewed as poetic matter suggests 
several questions. What are its good feature 



INTB OB UCTION. XIX 

What are its bad ones ? What was its charm for 
Longfellow ? It is evident at a glance that the inci- 
dent of a peasant girl separated from her lover, seek- 
ing him in vain and h. ding him only on his death-bed, 
lacks dramatic episodes and movement. It has no 
thrilling deeds, no sudden surprises, no hair-breadth 
escapes. Its few events by themselves would uot 
hold the reader's attention, and hence as matter for a 
story have no great value. But though the incident 
js poor in action, it is rich in feeling. Constancy, de- 
votion, submission, abound in it. It was this pervad- 
ing emotional element which made it attractive to 
Longfellow. He perceived that the scanty outlines 
could be developed, and the inherent sentiment could 
be so brought out as to throw around the story and its 
heroine a halo of beauty and pathos. 

Before the tale could be told, however, its metrical 
form must be determined. In what metre would it be 
most effective ? Whatever precedent Longfellow fol- 
lowed, whether that of Homer in the Iliad, or Virgil 
in the JEneid, or, as is far more likely, that of Goethe 
in his bucolic, Hermann and Dorothea, he never wa- 
vered in regard to the measure. From the beginning 
he spoke of the new poem as " my idyl in hexame- 
ters."' The translation of Tegner's Children of th • 
Lord's Supper had given him experience with the 



XX LONGFELLOW. 

metre; and to the adverse opinion of friends he per- 
sistently replied, "It suits all themes. It can fly low 
like a swallow and at any moment dart skyward." 
He did, however, try a short passage, the swig of the 
mocking-bird, in Part Second, canto second, in the 
common rhymed pentameter : 

"Upon a spray that overhung the si ream. 
The mocking-bird, awakening from his dream, 
Poured such delirious music from his throat 
That all the air seemed listening to his note 
Plaintive at first the note began, and slow; 
It breathed of sadness, and of pain, and woe; 
Then, gathering all his notes, abroad he flung 
The multitudinous music from his tongue, — 
As after showers, a sudden gust again 
Upon the leaves shakes down the rattling rain." 

Pleasing as this is, no one can fail to perceive bhe su- 
periority of the hexameter version. With unerring 
taste Longfellow chose the metre most suitable for 
minute delineations and tranquil sentiments. His 
artistic sense prescribed the measure which would 
harmonize with the pathetic theme, and which would 
add to it the beauty of lingering melody. 

In developing the incidents of the poem, Longfellow 
encountered little difficulty. The authorities 1<> which 
he had ready recourse supplied him copiously with 



INTRODUCTION. xxi 

facts. But to present these facts in a pleasing form 
required skill in arrangement. It is well understood 
that a plain tale should be told plainly, and that noth- 
ing contributes more to the ease and pleasure of a 
reader than an orderly presentation of events. Both 
these laws, the psychological and the rhetorical, are 
observed in Evangeline. Throughout the poem the 
facts follow one another in the sequence of time, and 
in Part First in the order of climax. In this sec- 
tion, each incident is more specific and more interest- 
ing than the preceding. Thus, after the general de- 
scription of Grand-Pre, comes that of the home of 
Evangeline, then the marriage contract, the feast of 
betrothal, the announcement of banishment, the separa- 
tion of the lovers, and finally the death of Benedict. 
Every one of the five cantos, and every stanza in each 
canto, adds a definite necessary part. Thus the story 
grows. Thus it moves on to a tragedy. 

When planning Part Second, Longfellow wrote in 
his journal : " Of material there is a superabundance. 
The difficulty is to select and give unity to variety." 
The material indeed was more than ample, for the 
Acadians had been scattered broadcast among the 
British colonies. Gabriel might have been carried 
into any one of the English settlements ; Evangeline 
might seek him anywhere from Massachusetts Bay to 



xxii LONGFELLO IF. 

Louisiana, and from the Atlantic to the Mississippi. 
In this amplitude of choice. Longfellow selected as the 
scenes of her wanderings those places which would 
furnish most of interest and of beauty. The division 
of the poem enabled him to vary his method, and in- 
stead of marshalling events in a climax, to describe the 
luxuriant savannas of Louisiana, the desolate Indian 
camp in the far West, and the Quaker city on the 
Susquehanna. To add human interest to these diverse 
pictures, he sketched in the Coureurs-des-bois, the 
voyageurs, the Shawnee squaw, and the Black Kobe 
chief. In and out through the varying scenes, among 
these picturesque people, Evangeline moves. Her 
constant presence, her one object, links together the 
contrasting elements, and gives "unity to variety." 

A consideration of the style of Evanqeline brines 
to mind Tennyson's remark in regard to his pastoral, 
Dora, " Being the tale of a nobly simple country-girl, 
it had to be told in the simplest poetical language." 
This harmony of theme and diction is attained in 
Evangeline. The language is not only beautiful; it 
is studiously simple. This is mos1 evident in the fig- 
ures of speech. The least difficultof all figures, those 
of resemblance, constitute the greater number. And 
of these, the direct simile and personification are far 
more frequent than the less obvious metaphor, The 



INTRODUCTION. XXlll 

most simple similes, such as " white as the snow 
were his locks " — " black were her eyes as the berry," 
abound on every page. Less numerous, though still 
abundant, are the comparisons with two points of re- 
semblance, such as that in which the benediction from 
the hands of the priest is likened to the seed from the 
hands of the sower. But long similes making point 
after point of likeness are few. One of the best is 
that in canto four of Part First, descriptive of the 
effect of the announcement of banishment : 

" As, when the air is serene in the snltry solstice of summer, 

Suddenly gathers a storm, and the deadly sling of the hail- 
stones 

Beats down the farmer's corn in the field, and shatters his 
windows, 

Hiding the sun, and strewing the ground with thatch from the 
. house roofs, 

Bellowing fly the herds, and seek to break their enclosures ; 

So on the heads of the people descended the words of the 
speaker. ' ' 

It is noticeable that purely literary and historical 
comparisons are rare. Almost without exception the 
figures are drawn from sources familiar to Acadian 
life and custom. A few contain allusions to Norman 
superstitions and Old World myths ; more have ref- 
erence to the ritual and ceremony of the Roman Cath- 



xxiv LONGFELLOW. 

olic Church, and still others are derived from the 
Bible. Thus columns of smoke ascend " like clouds 
of incense/' and the sun veils his face k - like the 
Prophet descending from Sinai." But the greatest 
number are taken from nature, — from the flowers, 
the birds, the stars, the moon, the rain, and tin 4 sea. 
Anything and everything in the natural world is used 
for illustration, from tin 1 obvious yellow of the maize 
to the mysterious effect of moonlight. It would be 
absurd to pretend that all the figures in this abun- 
dance of imagery have poetic value. P>ui after the 
few petty and commonplace comparisons have been 
acknowledged, there yet remain the great Dumber 
which unite grace of expression with beaut; of 
thought. 

The definite aim and artistic skill shown in the 
selection of the metre, the arrangement of the story, 
and the choice of figures, are still further evident in 
the treatment of character. It goes without saying 
that Evangel line is a poem of but one character. 
Several people, Benedict, Rend Leblanc, Basil, and 
Father Felician come and go in its pages. Gabriel 
furnishes the motive. Bu1 all are kept strictly sub- 
ordinate. Longfellow does not dissipate either his 
own strength or his readers' sympathy, but, concen- 
trates both upon Evangeline. The pathos of he* fate 



INTRODUCTION. XXV 

is emphasized in Part First by sharp contrasts. The 
joyful betrothal feast is followed within a few hours 
by the announcement of exile. The happiness of the 
lovers upon the signing of the marriage contract is 
transformed the next evening into grief. The village 
of Grand-Pre, rich in cattle and contented farmers, 
within less than a week is laid waste by fire, the 
cattle are confiscated, the inhabitants are banished. 
The sympathy felt for Evangeline is deepened by her 
youth, her beauty,* the death of her .father, and most 
of all by her own attitude toward misfortune. She 
has no reproaches for the English ; she cheers the 
women of the village, while to Gabriel and to her 
father she speaks " words of endearment where words 
of comfort availed not." Such unselfishness, such 
ideal charity, adds beauty and strength to a character 
which otherwise would be merely pathetic. 

These qualities of character are made still more 
evident in Part Second by repetition. Evangeline 
wanders from the plantation in Louisiana to the 
hunter's lodge, to the Jesuit mission, through many 
camps and secluded hamlets, always seeking, never 
finding ; always striving, never attaining. This pa- 
thetic story is re-enforced by a similar one from the 
lips of the Shawnee woman. But as before, the prin- 
cipal means used to increase our sympathy is the 



xxvi LONGFELLOW. 

addition of beautiful elements to Evangeline's char- 
acter. In all these slow years she does not doubt, 
she does not repine ; and when she finally yields her 
own will, she transforms the love concentrated upon 
one into devotion to many. Thus had she learned — 

u Patience and abnegation of self, and devotion to others." 

Any appreciation of the poem would be inadequate 
which did not recognize the artistic value of the 
lines which form the introduction and the cod elusion. 
Less than two-score in number, they yet add to the 
poem immeasurably. Other noted poets have used 
nature for a background. Sir Launfal rides forth 
young and expectant in June, when, " if ever, come 
perfect days." When he returns old and disap- 
pointed, a winter wind pierces him " eager and 
sharp." Eustum, that ill-fated father, kills his son 
by the banks of that majestic river which still moved 
on unperturbed "through the vast Chorasmian waste 
under the solitary moon." Lowell's poetic concep- 
tion of nature as in harmony with human endeavor, 
and Arnold's idea of it as immovable, immutable, 
are both expressed in Longfellow's few stanzas. The 
murmuring pines, the hemlocks green, indistinct in 
the twilight, the deep-voiced ocean of the introduc- 



INTRODUCTION. XXVll 

tion, form a sombre setting appropriate to a pathetic 
tale. And in the conclusion, after the Acadians are 
in their nameless graves, the forest still stands, the 
ocean still speaks, " and in accents disconsolate an- 
swers the wail of the forest." 

/ 

III. SUGGESTIONS FOE STUDY. 

The critical comments contain suggestions for the 
study of Evangeline. But this one poem should not 
absorb the entire time and interest of the student. 
To an intimate knowledge of Evangeline he should 
add some general acquaintance with Longfellow. 
There is but one way to acquire this : to become ac- 
quainted with the poet, one must study his poetry. 
No biography, however complete, no criticism, how- 
ever ample, can take the place of familiarity with the 
poems. There are mam' of these which, although 
but touched upon in class, will nevertheless serve lie 
double purpose of broadening the pupil's knowledge 
of Longfellow, and of exemplifying to him the poetic 
treatment of men and events. 

While maintaining at all times a commendable re- 
serve, Longfellow based a number of poems upon 
private incidents and relationships. He gave up a 
few pieces to teaching morality directly, and he 



xxviii LONGFELLOW. 

wrote much upon historical themes. These poems, 
personal, moral, and. historical, are suggested as pecu- 
liarly adapted to the class-room. 

Poems referring to Longfellow's early life and do- 
mestic relationships: My Lost Youth, Footsteps of 
Angels, The Children's Hour, Tiro Angels, Resigna- 
tion, Haunted Houses, Cross of Snow, Travels by the 
Fireside, From my Arm,chair. 

Poems referring to friends : On the Fiftieth Birth- 
day of Agassiz, Hawthorne, Charles Sumner, The 
Friends, Herons of Elmwood, Three Silences, Auf 
Wiedersehen. In connection with thi id also 

Longfellow's tribute to his early master in prose, 
Ln the Churchyard at Tarrytown, and his graceful 
recognition of Tennyson's artistic supremacy in // a- 
pentake. 

Poems directly inculcating morality : Excelsior, 
The Psalm of Life, The Builders, The Ladder of St. 
Augustine, The Castle Builders, Santa Filomena. 

Poems upon American history : Hiawatha, Miles 
Standish, Elizabeth, Lady Wentworth, Caul Reveres 
Ride, Slave in the Bismol Swamp, The Cumberland, 
Christinas Bells, Decoration Day, President Garfield, 
Building of the Ship. 

There is nothing obscure in any of these poems. 
As statements of fact the student grasps them at the 



INTRODUCTION. XXIX 

first reading. What he does not perceive is their 
artistic quality. He does not apprehend their poetic 
and literary excellence. This it is which the teacher 
must make plain. Without attempting any discus- 
sion of poetics, certain fundamental truths may be 
dwelt upon. It may be shown that not all lines are 
poetical which can be made to scan and to rhyme, 
and that poetry is more than a mere matter of form. 
It may be pointed out that certain metres are appro- 
priate for certain subjects ; that the Skeleton in 
Armor would lose force if told in the measure of the 
Day is Done. The office of the specific verb, noun, 
and adjective may be emphasized. The pupil can 
soon see that they contribute movement and dehnite- 
ness ; that they give action and life to the lines. 
He should also be taught to see the underlying idea 
or motive of a poem, and to comprehend that it is 
expanded by general and specific statement; that it 
is made stronger by illustration, by figure, and by 
allusion. 

It is not easy to formulate methods of teaching 
and of learning. The ingenious teacher, the earnest 
scholar, formulates his own method. But one or two 
practical suggestions may be offered. The first is in 
regard to the use of quotations. A few minutes at 
the beginning of the hour devoted to a running fire 



xxx LONGFELLOW. 

of short quotations will enliven the recitation, and 
will fasten some of the author's best thoughts in the 
pupil's memory. Usually he may be left free to 
select for himself ; but occasionally lines illustrating 
a particular point, such as Longfellow's use of meta- 
phor or of nature, may be called for. The second 
suggestion is, that students be taught not only to 
write, but to speak, upon a subject. One or two 
topics may be assigned each day for discussion upon 
the next. The pupil should be shown how to draw 
his material from the biography and the poems, and 
he should be required to speak grammatically, with 
logical sequence, and with point. 

The following topics may be found useful for writ- 
ten or oral exercises: I. Longfellow's opportunities 
for study and travel. II. His life in Cambridge: 
a. his profession; b. Ins home lite. III. J lis in- 
debtedness to European literature: a. poems show- 
ing German influence ; b. French influence ; <•. Italian 
influence; d. Spanish influence. [V. Hisuseof Amer- 
ican material: a. Indian; l>. colonial; c. revolution- 
ary; d. events of Civil War, V. His popularity: 
a. poems which appeal to home lite; I>. poems of 
religion, of sentiment; c. poems of nature; <I. bal- 
lads. For the special study of Evangeline : I. Loi 
fellow's use of history in Evangeline. II. His use 



INTRODUCTION. XXXI 

of figures in Evangeline. III. The sources of the 
figures. IV. The parallel construction of Parts I. 
and II. V. The character of Evangeline : a. the real- 
istic touches ; b. the ideal element. VI. The lesson 
of the poem. VII. The artistic beaut}^ of the poem. 
VIII. Its classic qualities of proportion, purity of 
feeling, and reserve. 

Should the teacher desire more topics, he can find 
them, with lists of poems, in Gannett's Studies in 
Longfellow. For the definite points of biography, con- 
struction, and literature several authorities are men- 
tioned in their proper "places. But references along 
the broader paths of literature, to poetry as an art, 
to its interpretation of nature, and to its expression 
of life, — such references are less numerous and more 
difficult to give. The following are, however, offered 
in the hope that they may be found suggestive and 
inspiring. The Study of Poetry, by Matthew Arnold, 
included in the Essays in Criticism, Series II., also 
published as the introduction to The English Poets, 
by T. Humphrey Ward. Poetic Interpretation of Na- 
ture, and Aspects of Poetry, by J. C. Shairp. Short 
Studies in Literature, and My Study Fire, Series II., 
by H. W. Mabie. 



xxxii LONGFELLO W. 



IV. BIBLIOGRAPHY. 

. The only complete edition of Longfellow's works 
is that published by Houghton, Mifflin & Co., in 
eleven volumes. The Cambridge edition contains all 
the poems in a Single volume. 

The best life of Longfellow is that written by his 
brother Samuel, and containing copious extracts from 
his journal and letters. The life by E. S. Robertson 
(1887), in the Great Writers Series, contains an 
admirable bibliography. 

For criticism see E. C. Stedman in Poets of America, 
H. E. Scudder in Men ami Letters, C. F. Richardson 
in his American Literature, and \Y. I). Howells in 
The North American Review for April, LS(>7. 



EVANGELINE. 



This is the forest primeval. The murmuring 
pines and the hemlocks, 

Bearded with moss, and in garments green, indis- 
tinct in the twilight, 

Stand like Druids of eld, with voices sad and pro- 
phetic, 

Stand like harpers hoar, with beards that rest on 
their bosoms. 

Loud . from its rocky caverns, the deep-voiced 5 
neighboring ocean 

Speaks, and in accents disconsolate answers the 
wail of the forest. 

This is the forest primeval ; but where are the 
hearts that beneath it 
Leaped like the roe, when he hears in the wood- 
land the voice of the huntsman? 

1 



2 LONGFELLOW. 

Where is the thatch-roofed village, the home of 

Acadian farmers, — 
10 Men whose lives glided on like rivers that water 

the woodlands, 
Darkened by shadows of earth, but reflecting an 

image of heaven ? 
Waste are those pleasant farms, and the farmers 

forever departed ! 
Scattered like dust and leaves, when the mighty 

blasts of October 
Seize them, and whirl them aloft, and sprinkle 

them far o'er the ocean, 
is Naught but tradition remains of the beautiful vil- 
lage of Grand-Pre. 

Ye who believe in affection that hopes, and en- 
dures, and is patient, 

Ye who believe in the beauty and strength of 
woman's devotion, 

List to the mournful tradition still sung by the 
pines of the forest ; 

List to a Tale of Love in Acadie, home of the 
happy. 



EVANGELINE. 



PART THE FIRST. 

L- 

I. 

In the Acadian land, on the shores of the Basin 20 

of Minas, 
Distant, secluded, still, the little village of Grand- 

Pre 
Lay in the fruitful valley. Vast meadows stretched . 

, to the eastward, 
Giving the village its name, and pasture to flocks 

without number. 
Dikes, that the hands of the farmers had raised 

Avith labor incessant, 
Shut out the turbulent tides ; but at stated sea- 25 

sons the flood-gates 
Opened and welcomed the sea to wander at will 

o'er the meadows. 
West and south there were fields of flax, and or- 
chards and cornfields 
Spreading afar and unfenced o'er the plain ; and 

away to the northward 
Blomidon rose, and the forests old, and aloft on 

the mountains 



LONGFELLOW. 

Sea-fogs pitched their tents, and mists from the 

mighty Atlantic 
Looked on the happy valley, but ne'er from their 

station descended. 
There, in the midst of its farms, reposed the Aca- 
dian village. 
Strongly built were the houses, with frames of 

oak and of hemlock, 
Such as the peasants of Normandy built in the 

reign of the Henries. 
Thatched were the roofs, with dormer-windows ; 

and gables projecting 
Over the basement below protected and shaded the 

doorway. 
There in the tranquil evenings of summer, when 

brightly the sunset 
Lighted the village street, and gilded the vanes on 

the chimneys, 
Matrons and maidens sat in snow-white caps and 

in kirtles 
Scarlet and blue and green, with distaffs spinning 

the goiden 
Flax for the gossiping looms, whose noisy shuttles 

within doors 



EVANGELINE. 



Mingled their sound with the whir of the wheels 

and the songs of the maidens. 
Solemnly down the street came the parish priest, 

and the children 
Paused in their play to kiss the hand he extended 

to bless them. 
Reverend walked he among them ; and up rose 45 

matrons and maidens, 
Hailing his slow approach with words of affection- 
ate welcome. 
Then came the laborers home from the field, and 

serenely the sun sank 
Down to his rest, and twilight prevailed.' Anon 

from the belfry 
Softly the Angelus sounded, and over the roofs of 

the village 
Columns of pale blue smoke, like clouds of incense no 

ascending, 
Rose from a hundred hearths, the homes of peace 

and contentment. 
Thus dwelt together in love these simple Acadian 

farmers, — 
Dwelt in the love of God and of mam. Alike were 

they free from 



6 LONGFELLOW. 

Fear, that reigns with the tyrant, and envy, the 

vice of republics. 
55 Neither locks had they to their doors, nor bars to 

their windows ; 
But their dwellings were open as day and the 

hearts of the owners ; 
There the richest was poor, and the poorest lived 

in abundance. 

Somewhat apart from the village, and nearer 
the Basin of Minas, 
Benedict Bellefontaine, the wealthiest farmer of 
Grand-Pre, 
go Dwelt on his goodly acres ; and with him, direct- 
ing his household, 
Gentle Evangeline lived, his child, and the pride 

of the village. 
Stalworth and stately in form was the man of 

seventy winters ; 
Hearty and hale was he, an oak that is covered 

with snow-flakes ; 
White as the snow were his locks, and his cheeks 
as brown as the oak-leaves. 
G5 Fair was she to behold, that maiden of seventeen 
summers ; 






EVANGELINE. 7 

'lack were her eyes as the berry that grows on 

the thorn by the wayside, 
Black, yet how softly they gleamed beneath the 

brown shade of her tresses ! 
5weet was her breath as the breath of kine that 
feed in the meadows, 
hen in the harvest heat she bore to the reapers 

at noontide 
Flagons of home-brewed ale, ah ! fair in sooth was 70 

the maiden. 
Fairer was she when, on Sunday morn, while the 

bell from its turret 
Sprinkled with holy sounds the air, as the priest 

with his hyssop 
Sprinkles the congregation, and scatters blessings 

upon them, 
Down the long street she passed,, with her chaplet 

of beads and her missal, 
Wearing her Norman cap and her kirtle of blue, 75 

and the ear-rings 
Brought in the olden time from France, and since, 

as an heirloom, 
Handed down from mother to child, through long 

generations. 



LONGFELLOW. 



I 



But a celestial brightness — a more etliereal 
beauty — 

Shone on her face and encircled her form, when, 
after confession, 
so Homeward serenely she walked with God's bene- 
diction upon her. 

When she had passed, it seemed like the ceasing 
of exquisite music. 

Firmly builded with rafters of oak, the house of 
the farmer 
Stood on the side of a hill commanding the sea ; 

and a shady 
Sycamore grew by the door, with a woodbine 

wreathing 1 around it. 
85 Rudely carved was the porch, with seats beneath; 

and a footpath 
Led through an orchard wide, and disappeared in 

the meadow. 
Under the sycamore-tree were hives overhung by 

a penthouse, 
Such as the traveller sees in regions remote by the 

roadside, 
Built o'er a box for the poor, or the blessed image 

of Mary. 



EVANGELINE, 9 

Farther down, on the slope of the hill, was the 90 

well with its moss-grown 
Bucket, fastened with iron, and near it a trough 

for the horses. 
Shielding the house from storms, on the north, 

were the barns and the farm-yard; 
There stood the broad-wheeled wains and the 

antique ploughs and the harrows ; 
There were the folds for the sheep ; and there, in 

his feathered seraglio, 
Strutted the lordly turkey, and crowed the cock, 95 

with the selfsame 
Voice that in ages of old had startled the penitent 

Peter. 
Bursting with hay were the barns, themselves a 

village. In each one 
Far o'er the gable projected a roof of thatch ; and 

a staircase, 
Under the sheltering eaves, led up to the odorous 

corn-loft. 
There too the dove-cot stood, with its meek and 100 

innocent inmates 
Murmuring ever of love ; while above in the vari- 
ant breezes 



10 LONGFELLOW. 

Numberless noisy weathercocks rattled and sang 
of mutation. 

Thus, at peace with God and the world, the 

farmer of Grand-Pre 
Lived on his sunny farm, and Evangeline governed 

his household. 
105 Many a youth, as he knelt in the church and 

opened his missal, 
Fixed his eyes upon her as the saint of his deepest 

devotion ; 
Happy was he who might touch her hand or the 

hem of her garment ! 
Many a suitor came to her door, by the darkness 

befriended, 
And, as he knocked and waited to hear the sound 

of her footsteps, 
no Knew not which beat the louder, his heart or the 

knocker of iron ; 
Or, at the joyous feast of the Patron Saint of the 

village, 
Bolder grew, and pressed her hand in the dance as 

he whispered 
Hurried words of love, that seemed a part of the 

music. 






EVANGELINE. 11 

But among all who came young Gabriel only was 
welcome ; 

Gabriel Lajeunesse, the son of Basil the black- us 
smith, 

Who was a mighty man in the village, and hon- 
ored of all men ; 

For since the birth of time, throughout all ages 
and nations, 

Has the craft of the smith been held in repute by 
the people. 

Basil was Benedict's friend. Their children from 
earliest childhood 

Grew up together as brother and sister; and 120 
Father Felician, 

Priest and pedagogue both in the village, had 
taught them their letters 

Out of the selfsame book, with the hymns of the 
church and the plain-song. 

But when the hymn was sung, and the daily les- 
son completed, 

Swiftly they hurried away to the forge of Basil 
the blacksmith. 

There at the door they stood, with wondering eyes 125 
to behold him 



12 LONGFELLOW. 

Take in his leathern lap the hoof of the horse as 
a plaything, 

Nailing the shoe in its place ; while near him the 
tire of the cart-wheel 

Lay like a fiery snake, coiled round in a circle of 
cinders. 

Oft on autumnal eves, when without in the gather- 
ing darkness 
130 Bursting with light seemed the smithy, through 
every cranny and crevice, 

Warm by the forge within they watched the labor- 
ing bellows, 

And as its panting ceased, and the sparks expired 
in the ashes, 

Merrily laughed, and said they were nuns going 
into the chapel. 

Oft on sledges in winter, as swift as the swoop of 
the eagle, 
135 Down the hillside bounding, they glided away o'er 
the meadow. 

Oft in the barns they climbed to the populous 
nests on the rafters, 

Seeking with eager eyes that wondrous stone, 
which the swallow 



EVANGELINE. 13 

B lings from the shore of the sea to restore the 
sight of its fledglings ; 

Lucky was he who found that stone in the nest of 
the swallow ! 

Thus passed a few swift years, and they no longer 140 
were children. 

He was a valiant youth, and his face, like the face 
of the morning, 

Gladdened the earth with its light, and ripened 
thought into action. 

She was a woman now, with the heart and hopes 
of a woman. 

" Sunshine of Saint Eulalie ' ' was she called; for 
that was the sunshine 

Which, as the farmers believed, would load their 145 
orchards with apples; 

She too would bring to her husband's house de- 
light and abundance, 

Filling it full of love and the ruddy faces of chil- 
dren. 

II. 

Now had the season returned, when the nights 
grow colder and longer, 
And the retreating sun the sign 'of the Scorpion 
enters. 



14 . LONGFELLOW. 

150 Birds of passage sailed through the leaden air, 

from the ice-bound, 
Desolate northern bays to the shores of tropical 

islands. 
Harvests were gathered in ; and wild with the 

winds of September 
Wrestled the trees of the forest, as Jacob of old 

with the angel. 
All the signs foretold a winter long and inclement. 
155 Bees, with prophetic instinct of want, had hoarded 

their honey 
Till the hives overflowed; and the Indian hunters 

asserted 
Cold would the winter be, for thick was the fur 

of the foxes. 
Such was the advent of autumn. Then followed 

that beautiful season, 
Called by the pious Acadian peasants the Summer 

of All-Saints ! 
160 Filled was the air with a dreamy and magical light; 
• and the landscape 
Lay as if new-created in all the freshness of child- 
hood. 
Peace seemed to reign upon earth, and the restless 

heart of the ocean 



EVANGELINE. 15 

Was for a moment consoled. All sounds were in 

harmony blended. 
Voices of children at play, the crowing of cocks 

in the farm-yards, 
Whir of wings in the drowsy air, and the cooing 165 

of pigeons, 
AH were subdued and low as the murmurs of love, 

and the great sun 
Looked with the eye of love .through the golden 

vapors around him ; 
While arrayed in its robes of russet and scarlet 

and yellow, 
Bright with the sheen of the dew, each glittering 

tree of the forest 
Slashed like the plane-tree the Persian adorned 170 

with mantles and jewels. 

Now recommenced the reign of rest and affec- 
tion and stillness. 

Day with its burden and heat had departed, and 
twilight descending ■ 

Brought back the evening star to the sky, and the 
herds to the homestead. 

Pawing the ground they came, and resting their 
necks on each other. 



16 LONGFELLOW. 

175 And with their nostrils distended inhaling the 

freshness of evening. 
Foremost, bearing the bell, Evangeline's beautiful 

heifer, 
Proud of her snow-white hide, and the ribbon that- 
waved from her collar, 
Quietly paced and slow, as if conscious of human 

affection. 
Then came the shepherd back with his bleating 

flocks from the seaside, 
180 Where was their favorite pasture. Behind them 

followed the watch-dog, 
Patient, full of importance, and grand in the pride 

of his instinct, 
Walking from side to side with a lordly air, and 

superbly 
Waving his bushy tail, and urging forward the 

stragglers ; 
Regent of flocks was he when the shepherd slept ; 

their protector, 
185 When from the forest at night, through the starry 

silence, the wolves howled. 
Late, with the rising moon, returned the wains 

from the marshes, 



EVANGELINE, 17 

Laden with briny hay, that filled the air with its 

odor. 
Cheerily neighed the steeds, with dew on their 

manes and their fetlocks, 
While aloft on their shoulders the wooden and 

ponderous saddles, 
Painted with brilliant dyes, and adorned with tas- 190 

sels of crimson, 
Nodded in bright array, like hollyhocks heavy 

with blossoms. 
Patiently stood the cows meanwhile, and yielded 

their udders 
Unto the milkmaid's hand ; whilst loud and in 

regular cadence 
Into the sounding pails the foaming streamlets 

descended. 
Lowing of cattle and peals of laughter were heard 195 

in the farm-yard, 
Echoed back by the barns. Anon they sank into 

stillness ; 
eavily closed, with a jarring sound, the valves of 

the barn-doors, 
Rattled the wooden bars, and all for a season was 

silent. 



„ 






18 LONGFELLOW. 

In-doors, warm by the wide-mouthed fireplace, 
idly the farmer 
200 Sat in his elbow-chair, and Watched how the flames 
and the smoke-wreaths 

Struggled together like foes in a burning city. Be- 
hind him, 

Nodding and mocking along the wall with ges- 
tures fantastic, 

Darted his own huge shadow, and vanished away 
into darkness. 

Faces, clumsily carved in oak, on the back of his 
arm-chair 
205 Laughed in the flickering light, and the pewter 
plates on the dresser 

Caught and reflected the flame, as shields of armies 
the sunshine. 

Fragments of song the old man sang, and carols of 
( Christmas, 

Such as at home, in the olden time, his fathers 
before him 

Sang in their Norman orchards and bright I > nr- 
gundian vineyards. 
21 ° Close at her father's side was the gentle Evange- 
line seated, 



EVANGELINE. 19 

Spinning flax for the loom that stood in the corner 
behind her. 

Silent awhile were its treadles, at rest was its dili- 
gent shuttle, 

While the monotonous drone of the wheel, like the 
drone of a bagpipe, 

Followed the old man's song, and united the frag- 
ments together. 

As in a church, when the chant of the choir • at in- 215 
tervals ceases, 

Footfalls are heard in the aisles, or words of the 
priest at the altar, 

So, in each pause of the song, with measured mo- 
tion the clock clicked. 

Thus as they sat, there were footsteps heard, 
and, suddenly lifted, 
•ounded the wooden latch, and the door swung 
back on its hinges. 

Benedict knew by the hob-nailed shoes it was Basil 220 
the blacksmith, 

And by her beating heart Evangeline knew who 
was with him. 

f Welcome ! ' the farmer exclaimed, as their foot- 
steps paused on the threshold, 



20 LONGFELLOW. 

" Welcome, Basil, my friend ! Come, take tin* 

place on the settle 
Close by the chimney-side, which is always empty 

without thee ; 
225 Take from the shelf overhead thy pipe and the lv 

of tobacco ; 
Never so much thyself art thou as when, through 

the curling 
Smoke of the pipe or the forge, thy friendly and 

jovial face gleams 
Round and red as the harvest moon through the 

mist of the marshes." 
Then, with a smile of content, thus answered Basil 

the blacksmith, 
230 Taking with easy air the accustomed seat by the 

fireside : — 
"Benedict Bellefontaine, thou hast ever thy jest 

and thy ballad ! 
Ever in cheerfullest mood art thou, when others 

are rilled with 
Gloomy forebodings of ill, and see only ruin before 

them. 
Happy art thou, as if every day thou badst picked 

up a horseshoe/' 



EVANGELINE. 21 

Pausing a moment, to take the pipe that Evange- 235 

line brought him, 
And with a coal from the embers had lighted, he 

slowly continued : — 
" Four days now are passed since the English ships 

at their anchors 
Ride in the Gaspereau's mouth, with their cannon 

pointed against us. 
What their design may be is unknown; but all 

are commanded 
On the morrow to meet in the church, where his 240 

Majesty's mandate 
Will be proclaimed as law in the land. Alas ! in 

the mean time 
Many surmises of evil alarm the hearts of the peo- 
ple." 
Then made answer the farmer : — " Perhaps some 

friendlier purpose 
Brings these ships to our shores. Perhaps the 

harvests in England 
By untimely rains or untimelier heat have been 245 

blighted, 
And from our bursting barns they would feed their 

cattle and children." 



22 LONGFELLOW. 

" Not so thinketh the folk in the village," said 

warmly the blacksmith, 
Shaking his head as in doubt; then, heaving a 

sigh, he continued : — 
" Louisburg is not forgotten, nor Beau Sejour, nor 

Port Royal. 
250 Many already have fled to the forest, and lurk on 

its outskirts, 
Waiting with anxious hearts the dubious fate of 

to-morrow. 

Arms have been taken from us, and warlike weap- 
ons of all kinds ; 
Nothing is left but the blacksmith's sledge and the 

scythe of the mower." 
Then with a pleasant smile made answer the jovial 

farmer : — 
255 " Safer are we unarmed, in the midst of our flocks 

and our cornfields, 
Safer within these peaceful dikes besieged by the 

ocean, 
Than our fathers in forts, besieged by the enemy's 

cannon. 
Fear no evil, my friend, and to-night may no shadow 

of sorrow 






EVANGELINE. 23 

Fall on this house and hearth ; for this is the night 

of the contract. 
Built are the house and the barn. The merry lads 260 

of the village 
Strongly have built them and well ; and, breaking 

the glebe round about them, 
Filled the barn with hay, and the house with food 

for a twelvemonth. 
Rene Leblanc will be here anon, with his papers 

and inkhorn. 
Shall we not then be glad, and rejoice in the joy 

of our children ? '" 
As apart by the window she stood, with her hand 265 

in her lover's, 
Blushing Evangeline heard the words that her 

father had spoken, 
And, as they died on his lips, the worthy notary 

entered. 

in. 

Bent like a laboring oar, that toils in the surf of 
the ocean, 
Bent, but not broken, by age was the form of the 
notary public ; 



24 LONGFELLOW. 






270 Shocks of yellow hair, like the silken floss of the 

maize, hung 
Over his shoulders ; his forehead was high ; and 

glasses with horn bows 
Sat astride on his nose, with a look of wisdom su- 
pernal. 
Father of twenty children was he, and more than 

a hundred 
Children's children rode on his knee, and heard 

his great watch tick. 
275 Four long years in the times of the war had he 

languished a captive, 
Suffering much in an old French fort as the friend 

of the English. 
Now, though warier grown, without all guile or 

suspicion, 
Ripe in wisdom was he, but patient, and simple, 

and childlike. 
He was beloved by all, and most of all by the 

children ; 
280 For he told them tales of the Loup-garou in the 

forest, 
And of the goblin that came in the night to water 

the horses, 



EVANGELINE. 25 

And of the white Letiche, the ghost of a child who 
unchristened 

Died, and was doomed to haunt unseen the cham- 
bers of "children ; 

And how on Christmas eve the oxen talked in the 
stable, 

And how the fever was cured by a spider shut up 285 
in a nutshell, 

And of the marvellous powders of four-leaved clover 
and horseshoes, 

With whatsoever else was writ in the lore of the 
village. 

Then up rose from his seat by the fireside Basil 
the blacksmith, 

Knocked from his pipe the ashes, and slowly ex- 
tending his right hand, 

" Father Leblanc," he exclaimed, " thou hast heard 290 
the talk in the village, 

And, perchance, canst tell us some news of these 
ships and their errand." 

Then with modest demeanor made answer the no- 
tary public, — 

" Gossip enough have I heard, in sooth, yet am 
never the wiser ; 



26 LONGFELLOW. 

And what their errand may be I know no better 

than others. 
295 Yet am I not of those who imagine some evil in- 

tention 
Brings them here, for we are at peace ; and why 

then molest us ? " 
" God's name ! ' shouted the hasty and somewhat 

irascible blacksmith ; 
" Must we in all things look for the how, and the 

why, and the wherefore ? 
Daily injustice is done, and might is the right of 

the strongest ! " 
300 But, without heeding his warmth, continued the 

notary public, — 
"Man is unjust, but God is just; and finally jus- 

. tice 
Triumphs ; and well I remember a story, that 

often consoled me, 
When as a captive 1 lay in the old French fort at 

Port Royal." 
This was the old man's favorite tale, and he loved 

to repeat it 
305 When his neighbors complained that any injustice 

was done them. 



EVANGELINE. ' 27 

" Once in an ancient city, whose name I no longer 
remember, 

Raised aloft on a column, a brazen statue of Jus- 
tice 

Stood in the public square, upholding the scales 
in its left hand, 

And in its right a sword, as an emblem that jus- 
tice presided 

Over the laws of the land, and the hearts and 310 
homes of the people. 

Even the birds had built their nests in the scales 
of the balance, 

Having no fear of the sword that flashed in the 
sunshine above them. 

But in the course of time the laws of the land 
were corrupted ; 

Might took the place of right, and the weak were 
oppressed, and the mighty 

Ruled with an iron rod. Then it chanced in a 313 
nobleman's palace 

That a necklace of pearls was lost, and ere long 
a suspicion 

Fell on an orphan girl who lived as maid in the 
household. 



I 
I 



28 LOXGF£LLO\\\ 

She, after form of trial condemned to die on the 

scaffold, 
Patiently met her doom at the foot of the statue 

of Justice. 
320 As to her Father in heaven her innocent spirit as- 
cended, 
Lo ! o'er the city a tempest rose ; and the bolts of 

the thunder 
Smote the statue of bronze, and hurled in wrath 

from its left hand 
Down on the pavement below the clattering scales 

of the balance, 
And in the hollow thereof was found the nest of 

a magpie, 
325 Into whose clay-built walls the necklace of pearl 

was inwoven." 
Silenced, but not convinced, when the story wat 

ended, the blacksmith 
• Stood like a man who fain would speak, but find 

eth no language ; 
All his thoughts were congealed into lines on his 

face, as the vapors 
Freeze in fantastic shapes on the window-panes in 

the winter. 






EVANGELINE. 29 

Then Evangeline lighted the brazen lamp on the 330 

table, 
Filled, till it overflowed, the pewter tankard with 

home-brewed 
Nut-brown ale, that was famed for its strength in 

the village of Grand-Pre ; 
While from his pocket the notary drew his papers 

and ink-horn, 
Wrote with a steady hand the date and the age of 

the parties, 
Naming the dower of the bride in flocks of sheep 335 

and in cattle. 
Orderly all things proceeded, and duly and well 

were completed, 
And the great seal of the law was set like a sun 

on the margin. 
Then from his leathern pouch the farmer threw on 

the table 
Three times the old man's fee in solid pieces of 

silver ; 
And the notary rising, and blessing the bride and C40 

bridegroom, 
Lifted aloft the tankard of ale and drank to their 

welfare. 



30 LONGFELLOW. 

Wiping the foam from his lip, he solemnly bowed 
and departed, 

While in silence the others sat and mused by the 
fireside, 

Till Evangeline brought the draughtboard out of 
its corner. 
345 Soon was the game begun. In friendly contention 
the old men 

Laughed at each lucky hit, or unsuccessful ma- 
noeuvre, 

Laughed when a man was crowned, or a breach 
was made in the king-row. 

Meanwhile apart, in the twilight gloom of a win- 
dow's embrasure, 

Sat the lovers and whispered together, beholding 
the moon rise 
350 Over the pallid sea and the silvery mist of the 
meadows. 

Silently one by one, in the infinite meadows of 
heaven, 

Blossomed the lovely stars, the forget-me-nots of 
the angels. 

Thus was the evening passed. Anon the bell 
from the belfry 






EVANGELINE. 31 

Rang out the hour of nine, the village curfew, and 

straightway 
Rose the guests and departed; a;nd silence reigned 355 

in the household. 
Many a farewell word and sweet good-night on 

the door-step 
Lingered long in Evangeline's heart, and filled it 

with gladness. 
Carefully then were covered the embers that 

' glowed on the hearth-stone, 
And on the oaken stairs resounded the tread of the 

farmer. 
Soon with a soundless step the foot of Evangeline 360 

followed. 
Up the staircase moved a luminous space in the . 

darkness, 
Lighted less by the lamp than the shining face of 

the maiden. 
Silent she passed through the hall, and entered the 

door of her chamber. 
Simple that chamber was, with its curtains of 

white, and its clothes-press 
Ample and high, on whose spacious shelves were 365 

carefully folded 



32 LONGFELLOW. 

Linen and woollen stuffs, by the hand of Evange- 
line woven. 

This was the precious dower she would bring to 
her husband in marriage. 

Better than flocks and herds, being proofs of her 
skill as a housewife. 

Soon she extinguished her lamp, for the mellow 

and radiant moonlight 

370 Streamed through the windows, and lighted the 

room, till the heart of the maiden 

Swelled and obeyed its power, like the tremulous 
tides of the ocean. 

Ah ! she was fair, exceeding fair to behold, as she 
stood with 

Naked snow-white feet on the gleaming floor of 
her chamber ! 

Little she dreamed that below, among the trees of 
the orchard, 
375 Waited her lover and watched for the gleam of her 
lamp and her shadow. 

Yet were her thoughts of him, and at times a feel- 
ing of sadness 

Passed o'er her soul, as the sailing shade of clouds 
in the moonlight 



EVANGELINE. 33 

Flitted across the floor and darkened the room for 

a moment. 
And, as she gazed from the window, she saw 

serenely the moon pass 
Forth from the folds of a cloud, and one star fol- 380 

low her footsteps, 
As out of Abraham's tent, young Ishmael wandered 

with Hagar. 

iv. 

Pleasantly rose next morn the sun on the village 
of Grand-Pre. 
Pleasantly gleamed in the soft, sweet air the Basin 

of Minas, 
Where the ships, with their wavering shadows, 

were riding at anchor. 
Life had long been astir in the village, and clamor- 385 

ous labor 
Knocked with its hundred hands at the golden 

gates of the morning. 
Now from the country around, from the farms and 

neighboring hamlets, 
Came in their holiday dresses the blithe Acadian 

peasants. 



34 LONGFELLOW. 

Many a glad good-moirow and jocund laugh from 
the young folk 
390 Made the bright air brighter, as up from the numer- 
ous meadows. 

Where no path could be seen but the track of 
wheels in the greensward. 

Group after group appeared, and joined, or passed 
on the highway. 

Long ere noon, in the village all sounds of labor 
were silenced. 

Thronged were the streets with people: and noisy 
groups at the house-doors 

Sat in the cheerful sun, and rejoiced and gossiped 
together. 

Every house was an inn, where all were welcomed 
and ieasted; 

For with this simple people, who lived like broth- 
ers together, 

All things were held in common, and what one 
had was another's. 

Yet under Benedict's roof hospitality seemed more 
abundant: 
4<x> For Evangeline stood among the guests of her 
father; 



EVANGELINE. 35 

Bright was her face with smiles, and words of wel- 
come and gladness 
Fell from her beautiful lips, and blessed the cup 

Under the open sky, in the odorous air of the 
. orchard, 
Stript of its golden fruit, was spread the feast of 

betrothal. 
There in the shade of the porch were the priest 405 

and the notary seated ; 
There good Benedict sat, and sturdy Basil the 

blacksmith. 
Not far withdrawn from these, by the cider-press 

and the beehives, 
Michael the fiddler was placed, with the gayest of 

hearts and of waistcoats. 
Shadow and light from the leaves alternately 

played on his snow-white 
Hair, as it waved in the wind ; and the jolly face no 

of the fiddler 
Glowed like a living coal when the ashes are blown 

from the embers. 
Gayly the old man sang to the vibrant sound of 

his fiddle, 

IB 






36 LONGFELLOW. 

Tons les Bourgeois de Chartrea, and Le Carillon de 
Dunkerque, 

And anon with his wooden shoes beat time to the 
music. 
415 Merrily, merrily whirled the wheels of the dizzying 
dances 
Under the orchard-trees and down the path to the 
meadows ; 

Old folk and young together, and children mingled 

among them. 
Fairest of all the maids was Evangeline, Benedict's 

daughter ! 

Noblest of all the youths was Gabriel, son of the 

blacksmith ! 

tj<> So passed the morning away. And lol with a 
summons sonorous 
Sounded the bell from its tower, and over the 
meadows a drum beat. 

Thronged ere long was the church with men. 
Without, in the churchyard, 

Waited the women. They stood by the graves, 

and hung on the headstones 
Garlands of autumn-leaves and evergreens fresh 

from the forest. 



EVANGELINE. 37 

Then came the guard from the ships, and march- 425 
ing proudly among them 

Entered the sacred portal. With loud and disso- 
nant clangor 

Echoed the sound of their brazen drums from ceil- 
ing and casement, — 

Echoed a moment only, and slowly the ponderous 
portal 

Closed, and in silence the crowd awaited the will 
of the soldiers. 

Then uprose their commander, and spake from the 430 
steps of the altar, 

Holding aloft in his hands, with its seals, the royal 
commission. 

" You are convened this day," he said, " by his 
Majesty's orders. 

Clement and kind has he been ; but how you have 
answered his kindness, 

Let your own hearts reply ! To my natural make 
and my temper 

Painful the task is I do, which to you I know 435 
must be grievous. 

Yet must I bow and obey, and deliver the will of 
our monarch : 



38 LONGFELLOW. 

Namelv, that all youi lands, and dwellings, and 

cattle of all kinds 
Forfeited he to the crow n ; and that von your- 

Ives from this province 
Be transported to other lands. God grant yon 
may dwell there 
440 Ever as faithful subjects, a happy and peaceable 
people ! 
Prisoners now I declare you, tor such is his 

Majesl \ *^ pleasure ! ' 
As, when the air is serene in the sultry solstice of 

summer, 
Suddenly gathers a storm, and the deadly sling of 
the hailstones 

Beats down the farmer's corn in the field, and 
shatters his windows, 

Ms Hiding the sun, and strewing the ground with 
thatch from the house-roofs, 
Bellowing ilv the herds, and seek t<» break their 

enclosures ; 
So on the hearts of the people descended the words 

of the speaker. 
Silent a moment they stood in speechless wonder, 

and then rose 



EVANGELINE. 39 

Louder and ever louder a wail of sorrow and 

anger, 
And, by one impulse moved, they madly rushed to 450 

the door-way. 
Vain was the hope of escape ; and cries and fierce 

imprecations 
Rang through the house of prayer ; and high o'er 

the heads of the others 
Rose, with his arms uplifted, the figure of Basil 

the blacksmith, 
As, on a stormy sea, a spar is tossed by the billows. 
Flushed was his face and distorted with passion ; 455 

and wildly he shouted, — 
" Down with the tyrants of England ! we never 

have sworn them allegiance ! 
Death to these foreign soldiers, who seize on our 

homes and our harvests ! " 
More he fain would have said, but the merciless 

hand of a soldier 
Smote him upon the mouth, and dragged him 

down to the pavement. 






In the midst of the strife and tumult of angry 460 
contention, 



40 LONGFELLOW'. 

Lo ! the door of the chancel opened, and Father 

Felician 
Entered, with serious mien, and ascended the steps 

of the altar. 
Raising his reverend hand, with a gesture he awed 

into silence 
All that clamorous throng: and thus he spake to 

his people : 
UK Deep were his tones and solemn: in accents meas- 
ured and mournful 
Spake lie. as. alter the toeshfs alarum, distinctly 

the clock strikes. 
"What is this that ye i\i), my children ? what 

madness has seized yon/ 
Forty years of my life have 1 labored among yon, 

and taught yon. 
Not in word alone, but in deed, to love one 

another ! 
470 Is this the fruit of my toils, of my vigils and 

prayers and privations'/ 

Have yon so soon forgotten all lessons of love and 
forgiveness ? 

This is the house of the Prince of Peace, and 
would yon profane it 



EVANGELINE. 41 

Thus with violent deeds and hearts overflowing 
with hatred ? 

Lo ! where the crucified Christ from his cross is 

gazing upon you ! 
See ! in those sorrowful eyes what meekness and 475 

holy compassion ! 
Hark ! how those lips still repeat the prayer, ' O 

Father, forgive them ! ' 
Let us repeat that prayer in the hour when the 

wicked assail us, 

Let us repeat it now, and say, ' O Father, forgive 
them ! ' " 

Few were his words of rebuke, but deep in the 

hearts of his people 
Sank they, and sobs of contrition succeeded the 480 

passionate outbreak, 

» While they repeated his prayer, and said, "O 
Father, forgive them ! " 

Then came the evening service. The tapers 

gleamed from the altar ; 
Fervent* and deep was the voice of the priest, and 

the people responded, 
^ot with their lips alone, but their hearts ; and the 

Ave Maria 



42 LONGFELLOW. 

485 Sang they, and fell on their knees, and their souls, 

with devotion translated, 
Rose on the ardor of prayer, like Elijah ascending 
to heaven. 

Meanwhile had spread in the village the tidings 
of ill, and on all sides 
Wandered, wailing, from house to house the women 

and children. 

Long at her father's door Evangeline stood, with 
her right hand 
490 Shielding her eyes from the level ra\s n\' the sun, 
that, descending. 

Lighted the village street with mysterious splen- 
dor, and roofed each 

Peasant's cottage with golden thatch, and em- 
blazoned its windows. 

Long within had been spread the snow-white cloth 
on the table ; 

There stood the wheaten loaf, and the honey fra- 
grant with wild flowers : 

486 There stood the tankaid of ale, and the cheese 

fresh brought from the daily: 
And at the 1 head of the board the great arm-chair 
of the farmer. 









EVANGELINE. 43 

Thus did Evangeline wait at her father's door, as 

the sunset 
Threw the long shadows of trees o'er the broad 

ambrosial meadows. 
Ah ! on her spirit within a deeper shadow had 

fallen, 
And from the fields of her soul a fragrance celes- 500 



tial ascended, — 

Charity, meekness, love, and hope, and forgive- 
ness, and patience ! 

Then, all forgetful of self, she wandered into the 
village, 

Cheering with looks and words the mournful hearts 
of the women, 

As o'er the darkening fields with lingering steps 
they departed, 

Urged by their household cares, and the weary feet 505 
of their children. 

Down sank the great red sun, and in golden, glim- 
mering vapors 

Veiled the light of his face, like the Prophet de- 
scending from Sinai. 

Sweetly over the village the bell of the Angelus 
sounded. 



44 LONGFELLOW. 

Meanwhile, amid the gloom, by the church 
Evangeline lingered. 
510 All was silent within ; and in vain at the door and 
the windows 

Stood she, and listened and looked, until, over- 
come by emotion, 

u Gabriel ! " cried she aloud with tremulous voice ; 
but no answer 

Came from the graves of the dead, nor the gloom- 
ier grave of the living. 

Slowly at length she returned to the tenantless 
house of her father. 
r>i5 Smouldered the tire on the hearth, on the board 
was the supper unlasted. 

Empty and drear was each room, and haunted 
with phantoms of terror. 

Sadly echoed her step on the stair and the floor of 
her chamber. 

In the dead of the night she heard the disconsolate 
rain fall 

Loud on the withered leaves of the sycamore-tree 
by the window. 
520 Keenly the lightning flashed ; and the voice of the 
echoing thunder 



EVANGELINE. 45 

Told her that God was in heaven, and governed 
the world He created ! 

Then she remembered the tale she had heard of 
the justice of. Heaven ; 

Soothed was her troubled soul, and she peacefully- 
slumbered till morning. 

v. 

Four times the sun had risen and set ; and now 

on the fifth day 
Cheerily called the cock to the sleeping maids of 525 

the farm-house. 
Soon o'er the yellow fields, in silent and mournful 

procession, 
Came from the neighboring hamlets and farms the 

Acadian women, 
Driving in ponderous wains their household goods 

to the sea-shore, 
Pausing and looking back to gaze once more on 

their dwellings, 
Ere they were shut from sight by the winding 530 

road and the woodland. 
Close at their sides their children ran, and urged 

on the oxen, 



46 LONGFELLOW. 

While in their little hands they clasped some frag- 
ments of playthings. 

Thus to the Gaspereau's mouth they hurried : 

and there on the sea-beach 
Piled in confusion lay the household goods of the 

peasants. 
All day long between the shore and the ships did 

the boats ply ; 
All day long the wains came laboring down from 

the village. 
Late in the afternoon, when the sun was near to 

his setting, 
Echoed far o'er the fields came the roll of drums 

from the churchyard. 
Thither the women and children thronged. On a 

sudden the church-doors 
540 Opened, and forth came the guard, and marching 

in gloomy procession 
Followed the long-imprisoned, hut patient, Aca- 
dian fanners. 
Even as pilgrims, who journey afar from their 

homes and their country, 
Sing as they go, and in singing forget they are 

weary anil wayworn, 



EVANGELINE. 47 

So with songs on their lips the Acadian peasants 
descended 

Down from the church to the shore, amid their 545 
wives and their daughters. 

Foremost the young men came ; and, raising to- 
gether their voices, 

Sang with tremulous lips a chant of the Catholic 
Missions : — 

" Sacred heart of the Saviour ! O inexhaustible 
fountain ! 

Fill our hearts this day with strength and submis- 
sion and patience ! " 

Then the old men, as they marched, and the 550 
women that stood by the wayside 

Joined in the sacred psalm, and the birds in the 
sunshine above them 

Mingled their notes therewith, like voices of 
spirits departed. 

Half-way down to the shore Evangeline waited 

in silence, 
Not overcome with grief, but strong in the hour 

of affliction, — 
Calmly and sadly she waited, until the procession 555 

approached her, 



48 LONGFELLOW. 

And she beheld the face of Gabriel pale with emo- 
tion. 

Tears then filled her eyes, and, eagerly running to 
meet him, 

Clasped she his hands, and laid her head on his 
shoulder, and whispered, — 

" Gabriel ! be of good cheer ! for if we love one 
another 
560 Nothing, in truth, can harm us, whatever mis- 
chances may happen ! " 

Smiling she spake these words ; then suddenly 
paused, for her father 

Saw she, slowly advancing. Alas ! how changed 
was his aspect ! 

Gone was the glow from his cheek, and the tire 
from his eye, and his footstep 

Heavier seemed with the weight of the heavy heart 
in his bosom. 
565 But with a smile and a sigh, she clasped his neck 
and embraced him, 

Speaking words of endearment where words of 
comfort availed not. 

Thus to the Gaspereau's mouth moved on that 
mournful procession. 






EVANGELINE. 49 

There disorder prevailed, and the tumult and 
stir of embarking. 

Busily plied the freighted boats ; and in the con- 
fusion 

Wives were torn from their husbands, and moth- 570 
ers, too late, saw their children 

Left on the land, extending their arms, with wild- 
est entreaties. 

So unto separate ships were Basil and Gabriel 
carried, 

While in despair on the shore Evangeline stood 
with her father. 

Half the task was not done when the sun went 
down, and the twilight 

Deepened and darkened around ; and in haste the 575 
refluent ocean 

Fled away from the shore, and left the line of the 
sand-beach 

Covered with waifs of the tide, with kelp and the 
slippery sea-weed. 

Farther back in the midst of the household goods 
and the wagons, 

Like to a gypsy camp, or a leaguer after a battle, 

All escape cut off by the sea, and the sentinels sso 
near them, 



LONGFELLOW. 

Lay i Qcamped for the night the houseless \« adian 

[aimers. 
Back to its nethermost i ited the bellow- 

ing ocean, 
Dragging adown the beach the rattling pebbli 

and leavinj 
Inland and far up the shore the stranded boats 

of the sailors. 
:,v. Then, us i In- night descended, the herds returned 

from their past urea ; 
Sweet was the moist still air with the odor of 

milk from their udders ; 
Lowing they waited, and long, at the well-known 

bars of the farm-yard, — 
Waited and looked in vain for the voice and the 

hand of the milkmaid. 
Silence reigned in the streets; from the church no 
\ ogelufl sounded, 
seo I!<»r no smoke from the roofs, and gleamed n<> 

lights from the windows. 

But on the shores meanwhile tin* evening in 
had been kindled, 
Built of the drift-wood thrown on the sands from 
wrecks in the tempest. 



EVANGELINE. 51 

Round them shapes of gloom and sorrowful faces 
were gathered, 

Voices of women were heard, and of men, and the 
crying of children. 

Onward from tire to fire, as from hearth to hearth 595 
in his parish, 

Wandered the faithful priest, consoling and bless- 
ing and cheering, 

Like unto shipwrecked Paul on Melita's desolate 
seashore. 

Thus he approached the place where Evangeline 
sat with her father, 

And in the flickering light beheld the face of the 
old man, 

Haggard and hollow and wan, and without either 600 
thought or emotion, 

Een as the face of a clock from which the hands 
have been taken. 

Vainly Evangeline strove with words and caresses . 
to cheer him, 

Vainly offered him food ; yet he moved not, he 
looked not, he spake not, 

But, with a vacant stare, ever gazed at the flicker- 
ing fire-light. 



52 LONGFELLOW. 

u Benedicit< .' ' murmured the priest, in tours of 

compassion. 
More he fain would have said, l>ut his heart was 

full, and his accents 
Paltered and paused on his lips, as the feet ol .1 

child on a threshold, 
Hushed hv the scene hfc beholds, and the awful 

presence of sorrow. 
Silently, therefore he laid his hand on the head of 
the maiden, 

no Raising his tearful eyes to the silent stars that 
above them 
Moved on their way, unperturbed by the wron 

and sorrows of mortals. 

Then gal he down at her side, and they wept 
together m silence. 

Suddenly rose from the south a light, as in 

autumn the blood-red 

Moon climbs the crystal walls of heaven, and o'er 
the horizon 
515 Titan-like stretches its hundred hands upon moun- 
tain and meadow. 

Seizing the rocks and the rivers, and piling huge 
shadows together. 



EVANGELINE. 53 

Broader and ever broader it gleamed on the roofs 

of the village, 
Gleamed on the sky and the sea, and the ships 

that lay in the roadstead. 
Columns of shining smoke uprose, and flashes of 

flame were 
Thrust through their folds and withdrawn, like 620 

the quivering hands of a martyr. 
Then as the wind seized the gleeds and the burn- 
ing thatch, and, uplifting, 
Whirled them aloft through the air, at once from 

a hundred house-tops 
Started the sheeted smoke with flashes of flame 

intermingled. 

These things beheld in dismay the crowd on the 

shore and on shipboard. 
Speechless at first they stood, then cried aloud in 625 

their anguish, 
" We shall behold no more our homes in the village 

of Grand-Pre ! " 
Loud on a sudden the cocks began to crow in the 

farm-yards, 



54 LONGFELLOW. 

Thinking the day had dawned : and anon the low- 
ing of cattle 
Came on the evening breeze, by the barking of 

dogs interrupted. 
630 Then rose a sound of dread, such as startles tjie 

sleeping encampments 
Far in the western prairies of forests that skirt the 

Nebraska, 
When the wild horses affrighted sweep by with 

the speed of the whirlwind, 
Or the lond bellowing herds of buffaloes rush to 

the river. 
Such was the sound that arose on the night, as the 

herds and the horses 
635 Broke through their folds and fences, and madly 

rushed o'er the meadows. 

Overwhelmed with the sight, yet speechless, the 
priest and the maiden 
Gazed on the scene of terror that reddened and 

widened before them ; 
And as they turned at length to speak to their 
silent companion, 



EVANGELINE. 55 

Lo ! from his seat he had fallen, and stretched 

abroad on the seashore 
Motionless lay his form, from which the soul had 640 

departed. 
Slowly the priest uplifted the lifeless head, and the 

maiden 
Knelt at her father's side, and wailed aloud in her 

terror. 
Then in a swoon she sank, and lay with her head 

on his bosom. 
Through the long night she lay in deep, oblivous 

slumber ; 
And when she woke from the trance, she beheld a 645 

multitude near her. 
Faces of friends she beheld, that were mournfully 

gazing upon her, 
Pallid, with tearful eyes, and looks of saddest com- 
passion. 
Still the blaze of the burning village illumined the 

landscape, 
Reddened the sky overhead, and gleamed on the 

faces around her, 
And like the day of doom it seemed to her waver- 650 

ing senses. 



56 LONGFELLOW. 

Then a familiar voice she heard, as it said to the 

people, — 
" Let us bury him here b t y the sea. When a hap- 
pier season 
Brings us again to our homes from the unknown 

land of our exile, 
Then shall his sacred dust be piously laid in the 

churchyard. " 
655 Such were the words of the priest. And there in 

haste by the sea-side, 
Haying the glare of the burning village for funeral 

torches, 
But without bell or book, they buried the farmer 

of (irand-Pre. 
And as the voice of the priest repeated the service 

of sorrow, 
Lo ! with a mournful sound like the voice of a vast 

congregation, 
660 Solemnly answered the sea, and mingled its roar 

with the dirges. 
"Twas the returning tide, that afar from the waste 

of the ocean, 

With the first dawn of the day, came heaving and 
hurrying landward. 



EVANGELINE. 57 

Then recommenced once more the stir and noise of 

embarking ; 
And with the ebb of the tide the ships sailed out of 

the harbor, 
leaving behind them the dead on the shore, and 665 

the village in ruins. 







58 LONGFELLOW. 



PART THE SECOND. 



i. 



Many a weary year had passed sinee the burning 
of Grand-Pre. 

When on the tailing tide the freighted vessels de- 
parted. 

Bearing a nation, with all its household gods, into 
exile, 

Exile without an end, and without an example in 
story. 

670 Far asunder, on separate coasts, the Acadians 
landed ; 
Scattered were they, like Hakes of snow, when the 
wind from the northeast 

Strikes aslant through the loos that darken the 

hanks of Newfoundland. 
Friendless, homeless, hopeless, they wandered from 

city to city, 



EVANGELINE. 59 

From the cold lakes of the North to sultry South- 
ern savannas, — 

From the bleak shores of the sea to the lands 675 
where the Father of Waters 

Seizes the hills in his hands, and drags them down 
to the ocean, 

Deep in their sands to bury the scattered bones of 
the mammoth. 

Friends they sought and homes ; and many, de- 
spairing, heart-broken, 

Asked of the earth but a grave, and no longer a 
friend nor a fireside. 

Written their history stands on tablets of stone in gso 
the churchyards. 

Long among them was seen a maiden who waited 
and wandered, 

Lowly and meek in spirit, and patiently suffering 
all things. 

Fair was she and young ; but, alas ! before her ex- 
tended, 

Dreary and vast and silent, the desert of life, with 
its pathway 

Marked by the graves of those who had sorrowed 685 
and suffered before her, 



60 LONGFELLOW. 

Passions long extinguished, and hopes long dead 
and abandoned, 

As the emigrant's way o'er the Western desert is 
marked by 

Camp-fires long consumed, and bones that bleach 
in the sunshine. 

Something there was in her life incomplete, im- 
perfect, unfinished ; 
690 As if a morning of June, with all its music and 
sunshine, 

Suddenly paused in the sky, and. fading, slowly 

descended 

Into the east again, from whence it late had 
arisen. 

Sometimes she lingered in towns, till, urged by the 
fever within her. 

Urged by a restless longing, the hunger and thirst 
of the spirit, 

She would commence again her endless search and 
mdeavor ; 

Sometimes in churchyards strayed, and gazed on 
the crosses and tombstones, 

Sat by some nameless grave, and thought that per- 
haps in its bosom 



EVANGELINE. 61 

He was already at rest, and she longed to slumber 

beside him. 
Sometimes a rumor, a hearsay, an inarticulate 

whisper, 
Came with its airy hand to point and beckon her 700 

forward. 
Sometimes she spake with those who had seen her 

beloved and known him, 
But it was long ago, in some far-off place or for- 
gotten. 
" Gabriel Lajeunesse ! ' they said ; " Oh, yes ! we 

have seen him. 
He was with Basil the blacksmith, and both have 

gone to the prairies ; 
Coureurs-des-bois are they, and famous hunters ?05 

and trappers/' 
" Gabriel Lajeunesse ! ' said others ; " Oh, yes ! 

we have seen him. 
He is a voyageur in the lowlands of Louisi- 

ana. 
Then would they say, " Dear child ! why dream 

and wait for him longer ? 
Are there not other youths as fair as Gabriel ? 

others 



62 LONGFELLOW. 

710 Who have hearts as tender and true, and spirits as 

loyal ? 
Here is Baptiste Leblane, the notary's son, who 

has loved thee 
Many a tedious year: come, give him thy hand 

and 1>e happy ! 
Thou art too fair to be left to braid St. Catherine's 

tresses." 
Then would Evangeline answer, serenely but 

sadly, " I cannot ! 
715 Whither my heart has gone, there follows my hand, 

and not elsewhere. 
For when the heart goes before, like a lamp, and 

illumines the pathway, 
Many things are made clear, that else lie hidden 

in darkness." 
Thereupon the priest, her friend and father con- 
fessor, 
Said, witb a smile, "O daughter! thy God thus 

speaketh within thee ! 
720 Talk not of wasted affection, affection never was 

wasted ; 
If it enrich not the heart of another, its waters, 

returning 






EVANGELINE. 63 

Back to their springs, like the rain, shall fill them 

full of refreshment; 
That which the fountain sends forth returns again 

to the fountain. 
Patience ; accomplish thy labor ; accomplish thy 

work of affection ! 
Sorrow and silence are strong, and patient endur- 725 

ance is godlike. 
Therefore accomplish thy labor of love, till the 

heart is made godlike, 
Purified, strengthened, perfected, and rendered 

more worthy of" heaven ! " 
Cheered by the good man's words, Evangeline 

labored and waited. 
Still in her heart she heard the funeral dirge of the 

ocean, 
But with its sound there was mingled a voice that 730 

whispered, " Despair not ! " 
Thus did that poor soul wander in want and cheer- 
less discomfort, 
Bleeding, barefooted, over the shards and thorns 

of existence. 
Let me essay, O Muse ! to follow the wanderer's 

footsteps ; — 



64 LONGFELLOW. 

Not through each devious path, each changeful 
year of existence ; 
735 But as a traveller follows a streamlet's course 
through the valley : 
Far from its margin at times, and seeing the gleam 

of its water 
Here and there, in some open space, and at inter- 
vals only : 
Then drawing Dearer its banks, through sylvan 

looms that conceal it. 
Though he behold it not. he can heai- its continu- 
ous murmur : 
740 Happy, at length, if he find a spot where it reaches 
an outlet. 

": 

It was the month of May. Far down the 

Beautiful River, 

Past the Ohio shore and past the month of the 

Wabash, 

Into the golden stream of the broad and swift Miss- 
issippi, 

Floated a cumbrous boat, that was rowed by Aca- 
dian boatmen. 



EVANGELINE. 65 

It was a band of exiles : a raft, as it were, from 745 
the shipwrecked 

Nation, scattered along the coast, now floating to- 
gether, 

Bound by the bonds of a common belief and a com- 
mon misfortune ; 

Men and women and children, who, guided by hope 
or by hearsay, 

Sought for their kith and their kin among the few- 
acred farmers 

On' the Acadian coast, and the prairies of fair 750 
Opelousas. 

With them Evangeline went, and her guide, the 
Father Felician. 

Onward o'er sunken sands, through a wilderness 
sombre with forests, 

.Day after day they glided adown the turbulent 
river ; 

Night after night, by their blazing fires, encamped 
on its borders. 

Now through rushing chutes, among green islands, 755 
where plumelike 

Cotton-trees nodded their shadowy crests, they 
swept with the current, 



' 



66 



LOSGFELLOW. 






765 



Then emerged into broad lagoons, where silvery 

sand-bars 
Lay in the stream, and along the wimpling waves 

of their margin. 
Shining with snow-white plumes, large flocks of 

pelicans waded. 
Level the landscape grew, and along the shores of 

the river. 
Shaded by china-trees, in the midst of luxuriant 

gardens. 
Stood the houses of planters, with negro cabins 

and dove-cots. 
They were approaching the region where reigns 

perpetual summer, 

Where through the Golden Toast, and groves of 
orange and citron. 

Sweeps with majestic curve the river away to the 
eastward. 

They, too, swerved from their course ; and, enter- 
ing the Bayou of Plaquemine, 

Soon were lost in a maze of sluggish and devious 
waters, 

Which, like a network of steel, extended in every 
direction. 



EVANGELINE. 67 

Over their heads the towering and tenebrous 
boughs of the cypress 

Met in a dusky arch, and trailing mosses in mid- 770 
air 

Waved like banners that hang on the walls of 
ancient cathedrals. 

Deathlike the silence seemed, and unbroken, save 
by the herons 

Home to their roosts in the cedar-trees returning 
at sunset, 

Or by the owl, as he greeted the moon with de- 
moniac laughter. 

Lovely the moonlight was as it glanced and gleamed 775 
on the water, 

Gleamed on the columns of cypress and cedar sus- . 
taining the arches, 

Down through whose broken vaults it fell as 
through chinks in a ruin. • 

Dreamlike, and indistinct, and strange were all 
things around them ; 

And o'er their spirits there came a feeling of won- 
der and sadness, — 

Strange forebodings of ill, unseen and that cannot 780 
be compassed. 






68 LONGFELLOW. 

As, the tramp of a horse's hoof on the turf of the 
prairies, 

Far in advance are closed the leaves of the shrink- 
ing mimosa. 

So, at the hoof-beats of fate, with sad forebodings 
of evil, 

Shrinks and closes the heart, ere the stroke of 

doom has attained it. 

785 But Evangeline's heart was sustained by a vision, 

that faintly 

Floated before her eyes, and beckoned her on 
through the moonlight. 

Jt was the thought of her brain that assumed the 
shape of a phantom. 

Through those shadowy aisles had Gabriel wan- 
dered before her, 

And every stroke of the oar now brought him 
nearer and nearer. 

790 Then in his place, at the prow of the boat, rose 

one of the oarsmen, 
And, as a signal sound, if others like them perad 

venture 
Sailed on those gloomy and midnight streams, blew 

a blast on his bugle, 



EVANGELINE. ■ 69 

Wild through the dark colonnades and corridors 

leafy the blast rang, 
Breaking the seal of silence and giving tongues to 

the forest. 
Soundless above them the banners of moss just 795 

stirred to the music. 
Multitudinous echoes awoke and died in the dis- 
tance, 
Over the watery floor, and beneath the reverberant 

branches ; 
But not a voice replied ; no answer came from the 

darkness ; 
And when the echoes had ceased, like a sense of 

pain was the silence. 
Then Evangeline slept ; but the boatmen rowed soo 

through the midnight, 
Silent at times, then singing familiar Canadian 

boat-songs, 
Such as they sang of old on their own Acadian 

rivers, 
While through the night were heard the mysterious 

sounds of the desert, 
Far off, = — indistinct, — as of wave or wind in the 

forest, 



70 



LOXGFELLOW. 



805 Mixed with the whoop of the crane and the roar 



of the grim alligator. 



Thus ere another noon they emerged from the 
shades : and before them 

Lay, in the golden sun, the lakes of the Atchafa- 
lava. 

Water-lilies in myriads rocked on the slight undu- 
lations 

Made by the passing oars, and, resplendent ii> 
beauty, the lotus 
8io Lifted her golden crown above the heads of the 
boatmen. 

Faint was the air with the odorous breath of mag- 
nolia blossoms, 

And with the heat of noon ; and numberless 
sylvan islands. 

Fragrant and thickly embowered with blossoming 
hedges of roses. 

Near to whose shores they glided along, invited to 
slumber. 

8i5 Soon by the fairest of these their wean oars were 
suspended. 

Under the bows of Wachita willows, that grew by 
the margin, 



EVANGELINE. , 71 

Safely their boat was moored ; and scattered about 
on the greensward, 

Tired with their midnight toil, the weary trav- 
ellers slumbered. 

Over them vast and high extended the cope of a 
cedar. 

Swinging from its great arms, the trumpet-flower 820 
and the grapevine 

Hung their ladder of ropes aloft like the ladder of 

Jacob, 

On whose pendulous stairs the angels ascending, 
descending, 

Were the swift humming-birds, that flitted from 
blossom to blossom. 

Such was the vision Evangeline saw as she slum- 
bered beneath it. 

Filled was her heart with love, and the dawn of 825 
an opening heaven 

Lighted her soul in sleep with' the glory of regions 
celestial. 

Nearer, ever nearer, among the numberless 
islands, 
Darted a light, swift boat, that sped away o'er the 
water, 



72* LONGFELLOW. 

Urged on its course by the sinewy arms of hunters 
and trappers. 
830 Northward its prow was turned, to the land of the 
bison and heaver. 

At the helm sat a youth, with countenance 
thoughtful and careworn. 

Dark and neglected locks overshadowed his brow, 
and a sadness 

Somewhat beyond his years on his face was legibly 
written. 

Gabriel was it, who, weary with waiting, unhappy 
and restless, 

Sought in the Western wilds oblivion of self and 
of sorrow. 

Swiftly they glided along, close under the lee of 
the island, 

But by the opposite bank, and behind a screen of 
palmettos ; 

So that they saw not the boat, where it lay con- 
cealed in the w illows ; 

All undisturbed by the dash of their oars, and un- 
seen, were the sleepers ; 
wo Angel of God was there none to awaken the slum- 
bering maiden. 



EVANGELINE. 73 

Swiftly they glided away, like the shade of a cloud 
on the prairie. 

After the sound of their oars on the tholes had 
died in the distance, 

As from a magic trance the sleepers awoke, and 
the maiden 

Said with a sigh to the friendly priest, "O Father 
Felician ! 

Something says in my heart that near me Gabriel 845 
wanders. 

Is it a foolish dream, an idle and vague supersti- 
tion ? 

Or has an angel passed, and revealed the truth to 
my spirit? " 

Then, with a blush, she added, " Alas for my cred- 
ulous fancy ! 

Unto ears like thine such words as these have no 
meaning." 

But made answer the reverend man, and he smiled 850 
as he answered, — 

" Daughter, thy words are not idle ; nor are they 
to me without meaning, 

Feeling is deep and still ; and the word that floats 
on the surface 



74 LONGFELLOW. 

Is as the tossing buoy, that betrays where the 

anchor is hidden. 
Therefore trust to thy heart, and to what the 

world calls illusions. 
855 Gabriel truly is near thee ; for not far away to the 

southward, 
On the banks of the Teche, are the towns of St 

Maur and St. Martin. 
There the long-wandering bride shall be give 

again to her bridegroom, 
There the long-absent pastor regain his flock an 

his sheepfold. 
Beautiful is the land, with its prairies and fores 

of fruit-trees ; 
860 Under the feet a garden of flowers, and the blues 

of heavens 
Bending above, and resting its dome on the walls 

of the forest. 
They who dwell there have named it the Eden o 

Louisiana." 

With these words of cheer they arose and con 
tinued their journey. 
Softly the evening came. The sun from the west- 
ern horizon 









EVANGELINE. 75 

Like a magician extended his golden wand o'er 865 

the landscape ; 
Twinkling vapors arose ; and sky and water and 

forest 
Seemed all on fire at the touch, and melted and 

mingled together. 
Hanging between two skies, a cloud with edges of 

silver, 
Floated the boat, with its dripping oars, on the 

motionless water. 
Filled was Evangeline's heart with inexpressible 870 

sweetness. 
Touched by the magic spell, the sacred fountains 

of feeling 
Glowed with the light of love, as the skies and 

waters around her. 
Then from a neighboring thicket the mocking- 
bird, wildest of singers, . 
Swinging aloft on a willow spray that hung o'er 

the water, 
Shook from his little throat such floods of deliri- 8 75 

ous music, 
That the whole air and the woods and the waves 

seemed silent to listen. 



7G LONGFELLOW. 






Plaintive at first were the tones and sad ; then 
soaring to madness 

Seemed they to follow or guide the revel of fren- 
zied Bacchantes. 

Single notes were then heard, in Borrowful, low 
lamentation ; 
ss> Till, having gathered them all, he flung them 
abroad in derision, 

As when, after a storm, a gust of wind through 

the tree-tops 

Shakes down the rattling rain in a crystal shower 
on the branches. 

With such a prelude as this, and hearts that 

throbbed with emotion, 

Slowly they entered the Teehe, where it Hows 

» « 

through the green Opelousas, 

185 And. through the amber air, above the crest of 
the woodland, 

Saw the eolnmn of smoke that arose from a neigh- 
boring dwelling ; — 

Sounds of a horn they heard, and (he distant low- 
ing of cattle. 



EVANGELINE. 77 



III. 

Near to the bank of the river, overshadowed by 
oaks from whose branches 

Garlands of Spanish moss and of mystic mistletoe 
flaunted, 

Such as tfre Druids cut down with golden hatchets 830 
at Yule-tide, 

Stood, secluded and still, the house of the herds- 
man. A garden 

Girded it round about with a belt of luxuriant 
blossoms, 

Filling the air with fragrance. The house itself 
was of timbers 

rHewn from the cypress-tree, and carefully fitted 
together. 
Large and low was the roof ; and on slander col- 895 
umns supported, 
Rose-wreathed, vine-encircled, a broad and spa- 
cious veranda, 
Haunt of the humming-bird and the bee, ex- 
tended around it. 
At each end of the house, amid the flowers of the 
garden^ 






78 



LONGFELLOW. 



Stationed the dove-cots were, as love's perpetual 

symbol, 
■ Scenes of endless wooing, and endl< ontentions 

of rivals. 
Silence reigned o'er the ptou i The line of shadow 

and Bunshine 
Kan near the tops of the tn but the house 

itself was in shadow, 
Ami from its chimney-top, ascending and slowly 

en pandii 
Into the evening air, a thin blue column <>t smoke 

roi 
9a-» In tli« rear "t the house, from tin inlcn «_;,ii 

ran a pathway 

Through the greai groi es of oak to tic «•! 

the limitless prairit 

Int<» whodfe sea of flowers the Bun \\ lowly de- 
fending. 

Pull in his track of light, like ships with shadow \ 

can\ AS 

Hanging loose from their spars in a motionless 

calm in the tropic-, 

:>k. Stood a cluster of trees, with tangled cordage of 
grapevines. 



EVANGELINE. 79 

Just where the woodlands met the flowery surf 

of the prairie, 
Mounted upon his horse, with Spanish saddle and 

stirrups, 
Sat a herdsman, arrayed in gaiters and doublet of 

deerskin. 
Broad and brown was the face that from under 

the Spanish sombrero 
Gazed on the peaceful scene, with the lordly look 915 

of its master. 
Round about him were numberless herds of kine 

that were grazing 
Quietly in the meadows, and breathing the vapory 

freshness 
That uprose from the river, and spread itself over 

the landscape. 
Slowly lifting the horn that hung at his side, and 

expanding 
Fully his broad, deep chest, he blew a blast, that 920 

resounded 
Wildly and sweet and far, through the still damp 

air of the evening. 
Suddenly out of the grass the long white horns of 

the cattle 



80 LOXGFELLOIV. 

Rose like flakes of foam on the adverse currents 

of ocean. 
Silent a moment they gazed, then bellowing rush* 

o'er the prairie, 

And the whole mass became a cloud, a shade in 
the distance. 

Then, as the herdsman turned to the house, 
through tin* gate of the garden 

Saw he the forms of the priesl and the maiden 

advancing to meet him. 

Suddenly down from his horse he sprang in amaze- 
ment, and forward 

Pushed with extended arms and exclamations of 
wonder ; 

o When they beheld his face, they recognized Basil 
the blacksmith. 
Hearty his welcome was, as he Led his guests to 
the garden. 

'There in an arbor of roses witli endless question 

and answer 

Grave they vent to their hearts, and renewed their 

friendly embraces, 
Laughing and weeping by turns, or Bitting silent 

and thoughtful. 



EVANGELINE. 81 

Thoughtful, for Gabriel came not ; and now dark 935 

doubts and misgivings 
Stole o'er the maiden's heart; and Basil, somewhat 

embarrassed, 
Broke the silence and said, " If you came by the 

Atchafalaya, 
How have you nowhere encountered my Gabriel's 

boat on the bayous ? " 
Over Evangeline's face at the words of Basil a 

shade passed. 
Tears came into her eyes, and she said, with a trem- 940 

ulous accent, 
" Gone ? is Gabriel gone ? ' and, concealing her 

face on his shoulder, 
All her o'erburdened heart gave way, and she 

wept and lamented. 
Then the good Basil said, — and his voice grew 

blithe as he said it, — 
" Be of good cheer, my child ; it is only to-day he 

departed. 
Foolish boy ! he has left me alone with my herds 945 

and my horses. 
Moody and restless grown, and tried and troubled, 

his spirit 



82 LONGFELLOW. 

Could no longer endure the calm of this quiet ex- 
istence. 
Thinking ever of thee, uncertain and sorrowful 

ever. 
Ever silent, or speaking only of thee and his 

troubles, 
aw He at length had become bo tedious to men and to 

maidens, 
Tedious even to me, that at length I bethought 

me, and scut him 
Unto the town of Adavcs bo trade for mules with 

the Spaniards. 
Thence he will follow the Indian trails to the Ozark 

Mountains, 
Hunting for furs in the forests, on rivers trapping 

the beaver. 
055 Therefore be of good cheer; we will follow the 

fugitive lover ; 
He is not far on his way, and the Fates and the 

streams are against him. 
Up and away to-morrow, and through the red dew 

of the morning, 
We will follow him fast, and bring him back to 

his prison." 



EVANGELINE. 83 

Then glad voices were heard, and up from the 
banks of the river, 

Borne aloft on his comrades' arms, came Michael 960 
the fiddler. 

Long under Basil's roof had he lived, like a god 
on Olympus, 

Having no other care than dispensing music to 
mortals. 

Far renowned was he for his silver locks and his 
fiddle. 

" Long live Michael," they cried, " our brave Aca- 
dian minstrel ! " 

As they bore him aloft in triumphal procession ; 965 
and straightway 

Father Felician advanced with Evangeline, greet- 
ing the old man 

Kindly and oft, and recalling the past, while Basil, 
enraptured, 

Hailed with hilarious joy his old companions and 
gossips, 

Laughing loud and long, and embracing mothers 
and daughters. 

Much they marvelled to see the wealth of the ci- 970 

Ldevant blacksmith, 



84 LONGFELLOW. 

All his domains and his herds, and his patriarchal 

demeanor ; 
Much they maryelled to hear his tales of the soil 

and the climate. 
And of the prairies, whose numberless herds were 

his who would take them : 
Each one thought in his heart, that he, too, would 

go and do likewise. 
975 Thus they ascended the steps, and, crossing the 

breezy veranda. 
Entered the hall of the house, where already the 

-upper of Basil 
Waited his late return ; and they rested am 

feasted together. 

Over the joyous feast the sudden darkness de- 
scended. 
All was silent without, and, illuming thejandscap 
with silver, 
980 Fair rose the dewy moon and the myriad stars 
but within doors, 
Brighter than these, shone the faces of friends i: 

the glimmering lamplight. 
Then from his station aloft, at the head of the 
table, the herdsman 



EVANGELINE. 85 

Poured forth his heart and his wine together in 
endless profusion. 

Lighting his pipe, that was filled with sweet Nat- 
chitoches tobacco, 

Thus he spake to his guests, who listened, and 985 
smiled as they listened : — 

" Welcome once more, my friends, who long have 
been friendless and homeless, 

Welcome once more to a home, that is better per- 
chance than the old one ! 

Here no hungry winter congeals our blood like 
the rivers ; 

Here no stony ground provokes the wrath of the 
farmer ; 

Smoothly the ploughshare runs through the soil, 990 
as a keel through the water. 

All the year round the orange-groves are in blos- 
som ; and grass grows 

More in a single night than a whole Canadian 
summer. 

Here, too, numberless herds run wild and un- 
claimed in the prairies ; 

Here, too, lands may be had for the asking, and 
forests of timber 



86 LONGFELLOW. 

995 With a few blows of the axe are hewn and framed 

into houses. 
After your houses are built, and your fields are 

yellow with harvests, 
No King George of England shall drive you away 

from your homesteads, 
Burning your dwellings and barns, and stealing 

your farms and your cattle/' 
Speaking these words, he blew a wrathful cloud 

from his nostrils, 
1000 While his huge, brown hand eame thundering down 

on the table, 
So that the guests all started; and Father Feliciau, 

astounded, 
Suddenly paused, with a pinch of snuff half-way 

to his nostrils. 
But the brave Basil resumed, and his words were 

milder and gayer : — 
" Only beware of the fever, my friends, beware of 

the fever ! 
loos For it is not like that of our cold Acadian cli- 
mate, 
Cured by wearing a spider hung round one's neck 

in a nutshell ! " 



EVANGELINE. 87 

Then there were voices heard at the door, and 

footsteps approaching 
Sounded upon the stairs and the floor of the breezy 

veranda. 
It was the neighboring Creoles and small Acadian 

planters, 
Who had been summoned all to the house of Basil 1010 

the herdsman. 
Merry the meeting was of ancient comrades and 

neighbors : 
Friend clasped friend in his arms ; and they who 

before were as strangers, 
Meeting in exile, became straightway as friends to 

each other, 
Drawn by the gentle bond of a common country 

together. 
But in the neighboring hall a strain of music, pro- 1015 

ceeding 
From the accordant strings of Michael's melodious 

fiddle, 
Broke up all further speech. Away, like children 

delighted, 
All things forgotten beside, they gave themselves 

to the maddening 






88 LOXGFELLOW. 

Whirl of the dizzy dance, as it swept and swayed 
to the music, 
1020 Dreamlike, with beaming eyes and the rush of 
fluttering garments. 

Meanwhile, apart, at the head of the hall, the 
priest and the herdsman 
Sat, conversing together of past and present and 

future : 
While Evangeline stood like one entranced, for 

within her 
Olden memories rose, and loud in the midst of the 
music 
ioaB Heard she the sound of the sea, and an irrepres- 
sible sadness 
Came o'er her heart, and unseen she stole forth 

into the garden. 

Beautiful was the night. Behind the black wall 
of the forest, 

Tipping its summit with silver, arose the moon. 
On the river 

Fell here and there through the branches a tremu- 
lous gleam of the moonlight, 
1030 Like the sweet thoughts of love on a darkened 
and devious spirit. 






EVANGELINE. 89 

L. 

Nearer and round about her, the manifold flowers 

of the garden 
Poured out their souls in odors, that were their 

prayers and confessions 
Unto the night, as it went its way, like a silent 

Carthusian. 
Fuller of fragrance than they, and as heavy with 

shadows and night-dews, 
Hung the heart of the maiden. The calm and the 1035 

magical moonlight 
Seemed to inundate her soul with indefinable 

longings, 

rs, through the garden gate, and beneath the 
shade of the oak-trees, 
t Passed she along the path to the edge of the 
measureless prairie. 
Silent it lay, with a silvery haze upon it, and fire- 
flies 
Gleaming and floating away in mingled and infi- 1040 

nite numbers. 
Over her head the stars, the thoughts of God in 

the heavens, 
Shone on the eyes of man, who had ceased to mar- 
vel and worship, 



90 LONGFELLOW. 

Save when a blazing comet was seen on the walls 

of that temple, 
As if a hand had appeared and written upon them, 

" Upharsin." 
i(H5 And the soul of the maiden, between the stars and 

the lire-flies, 
Wandered alone, and she cried, k * O Gabriel ! () my 

beloved ! 
Art thou so near unto me, and vet 1 cannot be- 

hold thee ? 

Art thou so near unto me, and yet thy voice does 

not reach me ? 
All ! how often thy feet have trod this path to the 

prairie ! 
MM Ah ! how often thine eyes have looked on the 

woodlands around me ! 
Ah! how often beneath this oak, returning from 

labor, 
Thou hast lain down to rest, and to dream ^i me 

in thy slumbers ! 

When shall these eyes behold, these arms be folded 

about thee ? ' 
Loud and sudden and near the note of a whippoor- 

\\ ill sounded 



EVANGELINE. 91 

u- 

Like a flute in the woods ; and anon, through the 1055 

neighboring thickets, 
Farther and farther away it floated and dropped 

into silence. 
" Patience ! ' whispered the oaks from oracular 

caverns of darkness ; 
And, from the moonlit meadow, a sigh responded, 

" To-morrow ! " 

Bright rose the sun next day ; and all the 
flowers of the garden 
Bathed his shining feet with their' tears, and iosa 

anointed his tresses 
With the delicious balm that they bore in their 
vases of crystal. 
Farewell ! ' said the priest, as he stood at the 

shadowy threshold ; 
See that you bring us the Prodigal Son from his 
fasting and famine, 
And, too, the Foolish Virgin, who slept when the 

bridegroom was coming." 
u Farewell ! ' answered the maiden, and, smiling, 1065 

with Basil descended 
Down to the river's brink, where the boatmen al- 
ready were waiting. 



u 



u 



92 



LONGFELLOW 



Thus beginning their journey with morning, and 

sunshine, and gladness. 
Swiftly they followed the flight of him who was 

speeding before them, 
BIowtl b}* the blast of fate like a dead leaf over the 

desert. 
1070 Not that day, nor the next, nor yet the day that 

succeeded, 
Found they trace of his course, in lake or fores: or 

river. 
Nor, after many days, had thev found him: hut 

vague and uncertain 
Rumors alone were their guides through a wild 

and desolate country ; 
Till, at the little inn of the Spanish town of 

Adayes, 
1073 Weary and worn, they alighted, and learned from 

the erarrulous Landlord 
That on the day before, with horses and guides 

and companions, 
Gabriel left the village, and took the road of the 

prairies. 



EVANGELINE, 93 

IV. 

Far in the West there lies a desert land, where 
the mountains 

Lift, through perpetual snows, their lofty and 
luminous summits. 

Down from their jagged, deep ravines, where the ioso 
gorge, like a gateway, 

Opens a passage rude to the wheels. of the emi- 
grant's wagon, 

Westward the Oregon flows and the Walleway 
and Owyhee. 

Eastward, with devious course, among the Wind- 
river Mountains, 

Through the Sweet-water Valley precipitate leaps 
the Nebraska ; 

And to the south, from Fontaine-qui-bout and the ios5 
Spanish sierras, 

Fretted with sands and rocks, and swept by the 
wind of the desert, 

Numberless torrents, with ceaseless sound, descend 
to the ocean, 

Like the great chords of a harp, in loud and solemn 
vibrations. 



94 LOXGFELLOW. 

Spreading between these streams are the wondrous, 

beautiful prairies, 
1090 Billowy bays of grass ever rolling in shadow and 

sunshine, 
Bright with luxuriant clusters of roses and purple 

amorphas. 
Over them wandered the buffalo herds, and the 

elk and the roebuck : 
Over them wandered the wolves, and herds of 

riderless horses ; 
Fires thai blast and blight, and winds that are 

weary with travel ; 
1095 Over them wander the scattered tribes. of Ishmael's 

children, 
Staining the desert with blood; and above their 

terrible war-trails 
Circles and sails aloft, on pinions majestic, the 

vulture, 
Like the implacable soul of a chieftain slaughtered 

in battle, 
By invisible stairs ascending and sealing the heav- 
ens, 
lioo Here and there rise smokes from the camps of 

these savage marauders ; 



EVANGELINE. 95 

Here and there rise groves from the margins of 

swift-running rivers ; 
And the grim, taciturn bear, the anchorite monk 

of the desert, 
Climbs down their dark ravines to dig for roots 

by the brook-side, 
And over all is the sky, the clear and crystalline 

heaven, 
Like the protecting hand of God inverted above 1105 

them. 

Into this wonderful land, at the base of the 

Ozark Mountains, 
Gabriel far had entered, with hunters &nd trappers 

behind him. 
Day after day, with their Indian guides, the maiden 

and Basil 
Followed his flying steps, and thought each day to 

o'ertake him. 
Sometimes they saw, or thought they saw, the mo 

smoke of his camp-fire 
Rise in the morning -air from the distant plain ; 

but at nightfall, 
When they had reached the place, they found only 

embers and ashes. 



96 LONGFELLOW. 

And, though their hearts were sad at times and 

their bodies were weary, 
Hope still guided them on, as the magic Fata 

Morgana 
1115 Showed them her lakes of light, that retreated and 

vanished before them. 

Once, as they sat by their evening fire, there 

silently entered 
Into the little camp an Indian woman, whose 

features 
Wore deep traces of sorrow, and patience as great 

as her sorrow. 
She was a Shawnee woman returning home to her 

people, 

1120 From the far-off hunting-grounds of the cruel Ca- 
manches, 
Where her Canadian husband, a eoureur-des-bois, 

had been murdered. 

Touched were their hearts at her story, and warm- 
est and friendliest welcome 

(iave they, with words of cheer, and she sat and 
feasted among them 

On the buffalo-meat and the venison cooked on 
the embers. 



EVANGELINE. 97 

But when their meal was done, and Basil and all 1125 

his companions, 
Worn with the long day's march and the chase of 

the deer and the bison, 
Stretched themselves on the ground, and slept 

where the quivering fire-light 
Flashed on their swarthy cheeks, and their forms 

wrapped up in their blankets, 
Then at the door of Evangeline's tent she sat and 

repeated 
Slowly, with soft, low voice, and the charm of her 1130 

Indian accent, 
All the tale of her love, with its pleasures, and 

pains, and reverses. 
Much Evangeline wept at the tale, and to know 

that another 
Hapless heart like her own had loved and had 

been disappointed. 
Moved to the depths of her soul by pity and 

woman's compassion, 
Yet in her sorrow pleased that one who had suf- 1135 

fered was near her, 
She in turn related her love and all its disasters. 
Mute with wonder the Shawnee sat, and when she 

had ended 



08 LONGFELLOW. 

Mill was mute : but at Length, as if a mysterious 

horror 
Passed through her brain, she spake, and repeated 
the tale of the Mowis ; 
ii4o Mowis, the bridegroom of snow, who won and 

wedded a maiden. 
But, when the morning eaine, arose and passed 

from the wigwam, 
Fading and melting away and dissolving into the 

sunshine, 
Till she beheld him n<» more, though she followed 

Ear into the forest. 

Then, in those sweet, low tones, that >ermed like 

a weird incantation, 

1145 Told she the tale of the fair Lilinan, who was 
wooed by a phantom. 
That, through the pines o'er her father's lodge, in 
the hnsh of the twilight. 

Breathed like the evening wind, and whispered 

love to the maiden, 

Till she followed his green and waving plume 

through the forest, 
And nevermore returned, nor was seen again by 

her people. 



EVANGELINE. 99 

Silent with wonder and strange surprise, Evange- 1150 

line listened 

To the soft flow of her magical words, till the re- 
gion around her 
Seemed like enchanted ground, and her swarthy 

guest the enchantress. 
Slowly over the tops of the Ozark Mountains the 

moon rose, 
Lighting the little tent, and with a mysterious 

splendor 
Touching the sombre leaves, and embracing and 1155 

filling the woodland. 
With a delicious sound the brook rushed by, and 

the branches 
Swayed and sighed overhead in scarcely audible 

whispers. 
Filled with the thoughts of love was Evangeline's 

heart, but a secret, 
Subtile sense crept in of pain and indefinite 

terror, 
As the cold, poisonous snake creeps into the nest 1160 

of the swallow. 
It was no earthly fear. A breath from the region 

of spirits 



100 LONGFELLOW. 

Seemed to float in the air of night ; and she felt 

for a moment 
That, like the Indian maid, she, too, was pursuing 

a phantom. 
With this thought she slept, and the fear and the 

phantom had vanished. 

lies Early upon the morrow the march was resumed, 

and the Shawnee 
Said, as they journeyed along, — " On the western 

slope of these mountains 
Dwells in his little village the Black Robe chief of 

the Mission. 
Much he teaches the people, and tells them of 

Mary and Jesus ; 
Loud laugh (heir hearts with joy, and weep with 

pain, as they hear him." 
1170 Then, with a sudden and secret emotion, Evange- 
line answered, 
" Let us go to the Mission, for there good tidings 

await us ! " 
Thither they turned their steeds; and behind a 

spur of the mountains, 
Just as the sun went down, they heard a murmur 

of voices, 



EVANGELINE. 101 

And in a meadow green and broad, by the bank of 
a river, 

Saw the tents of the Christians, the tents of the ins 
Jesuit Mission. 

Under a towering oak, that stood in the midst of 
the village, 

Knelt the Black Robe chief with his children. A 
erac-fix fastened 

High on the trunk of the tree, and overshadowed 
by grapevines, 

Looked with its agonized face on the multitude 
kneeling beneath it. 

This was their rural chapel. Aloft, through the nso 
intricate arches 

Of its aerial roof, arose the chant of their ves- 
pers, 

Mingling its notes with the soft susurrus and sighs 
of the branches. 

Silent, with heads uncovered, the travellers, nearer 
approaching, 

Knelt on the swarded floor, and joined in the even- 
ing devotions. 

But when the service was done, and the benedic- nss 
tion had fallen 



102 LONGFELLOW. 

Forth from the hands of the priest, like seed from 
the hands of the sower, 

Slowly the reverend man advanced to the stran- 
gers, and bade them 

Welcome ; and when they replied, he smiled with 
benignant expression, 

Hearing the homelike sounds of his mother-tongue 
in the forest, 
U90 And, with words of kindness, conducted them into 
his wigwam. 

There upon mats and skins they reposed, and on 
cakes of the maize-ear 

Feasted, and slaked their thirst from the water- 
gourd of the teacher. 

Soon was their story told : and the priest with 
solemnity answered : — 

" Not six suns have risen and set since Gabriel, 
seated 
1195 On this mat by my side, where now the maiden re- 
poses, 

Told me this same sad tale : then arose and con- 
tinued his journey ! 

Soft was the voice of the priest, and he spake with 
an accent of kindness ; 



EVANGELINE. 103 

But on Evangeline's heart fell his words as in win- 
ter the snow-flakes 
Fall into some lone nest from which the birds have 

departed. 
" Far to the north he has gone," continued the 1200 

priest ; " but in autumn, 
When the chase is done, will return again to the 

Mission." 
Then Evangeline said, and her voice was meek and 

submissive, 
" Let me remain with thee, for my soul is sad and 

afflicted." 
So seemed it wise and well unto all ; and betimes 

on the morrow, 
Mounting his Mexican steed, with his Indian guides 1205 

and companions, 
Homeward Basil returned, and Evangeline stayed 

at the Mission. 

Slowly, slowly, slowly the days succeeded each 

other, — 
Days and weeks and months ; and the fields of 

maize that were springing 
Green from the ground when a stranger she came, 

now waving about her, 



104 LONGFELLOW. 

1210 Lifted their slender shafts, with leaves interlacing, 

and forming 
Cloisters for mendicant crows and granaries pil- 
laged by squirrels. 
Then in the golden weather the maize was husked, 

and the maidens 
Blushed at each blood-red ear, for that betokened 

a lover, 
But at the crooked laughed, and called it a thief 

in the corn-field. 
1215 Even the blood-red ear to E\angeline brought not 

her lover. 
•• Patience ! ' the priest would say ; " have faith, 

and thy prayer will be answered ! 
Look at this vigorous plant that* lifts its head from 

the meadow, 
See how its leaves are turned to the north, as true 

as the magnet ; 
This is the compass-How er, that the ringer of God 

has planted 
1220 Here in the houseless wild, to direct the traveller's 

journey 
Over the sea-like, pathless, limitless waste of the 

desert. 









EVANGELINE. 105 

Such in the soul of man is faith. The blossoms 

of passion, 
Gay and luxuriant flowers, are brighter and fuller 

of fragrance, 
But they beguile us, and lead us astray, and their 

odor is deadly. 
Only this humble plant can guide us here, and 1225 

hereafter 
Crown us with asphodel flowers, that are wet with 

the dews of nepenthe." 

So came the autumn, and passed, and the winter 

— yet Gabriel came not; 
Blossomed the opening spring, and the notes of 

the robin and bluebird 
Sounded sweet upon wold and in wood, yet Gabriel 

came not. 
But on the breath of the summer winds a rumor 1230 

was wafted 
Sweeter than song of bird, or hue or odor of blos- 
som. 
Far to the north and east, it said, in the Michigan 

forests, 
Gabriel had his lodge by the banks of the Saginaw 

River. 



106 LONGFELLOW. 

And, with returning guides, that sought the lakes 
of St. Lawrence, 
1235 Saying a sad farewell, Evangeline went from the 
Mission. 

When over weary ways, by long and perilous 
marches, 

She had attained at length the depths of the Mich- 
igan forests. 

Found she the hunter's lodge deserted and fallen 
to ruin ! 

Thus did the long sad years glide on, and in 
seasons and places 
1240 Divers and distant far was seen the wandering 
maiden : — 



Now in the Tents of Grace of the meek Moravian 

Missions, 
Now in the noisy camps and the battle-fields of 

the army, 
Now in secluded hamlets, in towns and populous 

cities. 
Like a phantom she came, and passed away unre- 

membered. 
1245 Fair was she and young, when in hope began the 

long journey ; 






EVANGELINE. 107 

u 

Faded was she and old, when in disappointment it 

ended. 
Each succeeding year stole something away from 

her beauty, 
Leaving behind it, broader and deeper, the gloom 

and the shadow. 
Then there appeared and spread faint streaks of 

gray o'er her forehead, 
Dawn of another life, that broke o'er her earthly 1250 

horizon, 
As in the eastern sky the first faint streaks of 

the morning. 

V. 

In that delightful land which is washed by the 

Delaware's waters, 
Guarding in sylvan shades the name of Penn the 

apostle, 
Stands on the banks of its beautiful stream the 

city he founded. 
There all the air is balm, and the peach is the 1255 

emblem of beauty, 
And the streets still reecho the names of the trees 

of the forest, 



108 LOXGFELLOW. 

As if they fain would appease the Dryads whose 
haunts they molested. 

There from the troubled sea had Evangeline 
landed, an exile, 

Finding among the children of Penn a home and 
a country. 
1260 There old Rene Leblanc had died ; and when he 
departed, 

Saw at his side only one of all his hundred de- 
scendants. 

Something at least there was in the friendly streets 
of the city, 

Something that spake to her heart, and made her 
no longer a stranger ; 

And her ear was pleased with the Thee and Thou 
of the Quakers, 
[265 For it recalled the past, the old Acadian coun- 
try, 
. Where all men were equal, and all were brothers 
and sisters. 

So, when the fruitless search, the disappointed en- 
deavor, 

Ended, to recommence no more upon earth, un- 
complaining, 



EVANGELINE. 109 

L- 

Thither, as leaves to the light, were turned her 

thoughts and her footsteps. 
As from a mountain's top the rainy mists of the 1270 

morning 
Roll away, and afar we behold the landscape below 

us, 
Sun-illumined, with shining rivers and cities and 

hamlets, 
So fell the mists from her mind, and she saw the 

world far below her, 
Dark no longer, but all illumined with love ; and 

the pathway 
Which she had climbed so far, lying smooth and 1275 

fair in the distance. 
Gabriel was not forgotten. Within her heart was 

his image, 
Clothed in the beauty of love and youth, as last 

she beheld him, 
Only more beautiful made by his deathlike silence 

and absence. 
Into her thoughts of him time entered not, for it 

was not. 
Over him years had no power; he was not changed, 1230 

but transfigured ; 



110 LONGFELLOW. 

He had become to her heart as one who is dead, and 

not absent ; 
Patience and abnegation of self, and devotion to 

others, 
This was the lesson a life of trial and sorrow had 

taught her. 
So was her love diffused, but, like to some odorous 

spices, 
1285 Suffered no waste nor loss, though rilling the air 

with aroma. 
Other hope bad she none, nor wish in life, but to 

follow 
Meekly, with reverent steps, the sacred feet of 

her Saviour. 
Thus many years she lived as a Sister of Mercy; 

frequenting 
Lonely and wretched roofs in the crowded lanes of 

the city, 

1290 Where distress and want concealed themselves 
from the sunlight, 
Where disease and sorrow in garrets Languished 

neglected. 
Night after night when the world was asleep, as 
the watchman repeated 






EVANGELINE. Ill 

Loud, through the gusty streets, that all was well 

in the city, 
High at some lonely window he saw the light of 

her taper. 
Day after day, in the gray of the dawn, as slow 1295 

through the suburbs 
Plodded the German farmer, with flowers and 

fruits for the market, 
Met he that meek, pale face, returning home from 

its watchings. 

Then it came to pass that a pestilence fell on 

the city, 
Presaged by wondrous signs, and mostly by flocks 

of wild pigeons, 
Darkening the sun in their flight, with naught in 1300 

their craws but an acorn. 
And, as the tides of the sea arise in the month of 

f September, 

Flooding some silver stream, till it spreads to a 

lake in the meadow, 
So death flooded life, and, o'erflowing its natural 

margin, 
Spread to a brackish lake the silver stream of ex- 
istence. 



112 LONGFELLOW. 

1305 Wealth had no power to bribe, nor beauty to charm, 

the oppressor ; 
But all perished alike beneath the scourge of his 

anger ; — 
Only, alas ! the poor, who had neither friends nor 

attendants, 
Crept away to die in the almshouse, home of the 

homeless. 
Then in the suburbs it stood, in the midst of 

meadows and woodlands; 
1310 Now the city surrounds it ; but still, with its gate- 
way and wicket 
Meek, in the midst of splendor, its humble walls 

seem to echo 
Softly the words of the Lord:- — " The poor ye 

always have with you/' 
Thither, by night and by day, came the Sister of 

Mercy. The dying 
Looked up into her face, and thought, indeed, to 

behold there 
1315 Gleams of celestial light encircle her forehead with 

splendor, 
Such as the artist paints o'er the brows of saints 

and apostles, 






EVANGELINE. 113 

u 

Or such as hangs by night o'er a city seen at a 

distance. 
Unto their eyes it seemed the lamps of the city 

celestial, 
Into whose shining gates erelong, their spirits 

would enter. 

Thus, on a Sabbath morn, through the streets, 1320 

deserted and silent, 
Wending her quiet way, she entered the door of 

the almshouse. 
Sweet on the summer air was the odor of flowers 

in the garden, 
And she paused on her way to gather the fairest 

among them, 
That the dying once more might rejoice in their 

fragrance and beauty. 
Then, as she mounted the stairs to the corridors, 1325 

cooled by the east-wind, 
Distant and soft on her ear fell the chimes from 

the belfry of Christ Church, 
While, intermingled with these, across the mead- 
ows were wafted 
Sounds of psalms, that were sung by the Swedes 

in their church at Wicaco. 



114 LONGFELLOW. 

Soft as descending wings fell the calm of the hour 

on her spirit ; 
1330 Something within her said, "At length thy trials' 

are ended ; ' 
And, with light in her looks, she entered the 

chambers of sickness. 
Noiselessly moved about the assiduous, careful 

attendants, 
Moistening the feverish lip, and the aching brow, 

and in silence 
('losing the sightless eyes of the dead, and conceal- 
ing their faces, 
1335 Where on their pallets they lay, like drifts of snow 

by the roadside. 
Many a languid head, upraised as Evangeline 

entered, 
Turned on its pillow of pain to gaze while she 

passed, for her presence 
Fell on their hearts like a ray of the sun on the 

walls of a prison. 
And, as she looked around, she saw how Death, 

the consoler, 
1340 Laying his hand upon many a heart, had healed 

it forever. 



EVANGELINE. 115 

Many familiar forms had disappeared in the night 

time ; 
Vacant their places were, or filled already by 

strangers. 

Suddenly, as if arrested by fear or a feeling of 

wonder, 
Still she stood, with her colorless lips apart, while 

a shudder 
Ran through her frame, and, forgotten, the flowerets 1345 

dropped from her fingers, 
And from her eyes and cheeks the light and bloom 

of the morning. 
Then there escaped from her lips a cry of such 

terrible anguish, 
That the dying heard it, and started up from their 

pillows. 
On the pallet before her was stretched the form of 

an old man. 
Long, and thin, and gray were the locks that 1350 

shaded his temples ; 
But, as he lay in the morning light, his face for a 

moment 
Seemed to assume once more the forms of its 

earlier manhood ; 



116 LONGFELLOW. 

So are wont to be changed the faces of those who 

are dying. 
Hot and red on his lips still burned the flush of 

the fever, 

1355 As if life, like the Hebrew, with blood had be- 
sprinkled its portals, 
That the Angel of Death might see the sign, and 

pass over. 
Motionless, senseless, dying, he lav, and bis spirit 

exhausted 
Seemed to be sinking down through infinite depths 

in the darkness. 
Darkness of slumber and death, forever sinking 

and sinking. 
1360 Then through those realms of shade, in multiplied 

reverberations, 
Heard lie that cry of pain, and through the hush 

that succeeded 
Whispered a gentle voice, in accents tender and 

saint-like, 
"Gabriel! () my beloved!' and died away into 

silence. 
Then he beheld, in a dream, once more the home 

of his childhood ; 






EVANGELINE. 117 

Green Acadian meadows, with sylvan rivers among 1365 

them, 
Village, and mountain, and woodlands ; and, walk- 
ing under their shadow, 
As in the days of her youth, Evangeline rose in 

his vision. 
Tears came into his eyes ; and as slowly he lifted 

his eyelids, 
Vanished the vision away, but Evangeline knelt 

by his bedside. 
Vainly he strove to whisper her name, for the 1370 

accents unuttered 
Died on his lips, and their motion revealed what 

his tongue would have spoken. 
Vainly he strove to rise ; and Evangeline, kneeling 

beside him, 
Kissed his dying lips, and laid his head on her 

bosom. 
Sweet was the light of his eyes ; but it suddenly 

♦ sank into darkness, 
As when a lamp is blown out by a gust of wind at 1375 

a casement. 






■ 



All was ended now, the hope, and the fear, and 
the sorrow, 



118 LONGFELLOW. 

All the aching of heart, the restless, unsatisfied 

longing, 
All the dull, deep pain, and constant anguish of 

patience ! 
And, as she pressed once more the lifeless head to 

her bosom, 
1380 Meekly she bowed her own, and" murmured, 

" Father, I thank thee ! ' 



Still stands the forest primeval ; but far away 

from its shadow, 
Side by side, in their nameless graves, the lovers 

are sleeping. 
Under the humble walls of the little Catholic 

churchyard, 
In the heart of the city, they lie, unknown and 

unnoticed. 
1385 Daily the tides of life go ebbing and flowing be- 
side them, 
Thousands of throbbing hearts, where theirs are at 

rest and forever. 
Thousands of aching brains, where theirs no longer 

are busy, 



[ EVANGELINE. 119 

Thousands of toiling hands, where theirs have 
ceased from their labors, 

Thousands of weary feet, where theirs have com- 
pleted their journey ! 

Still stands the forest primeval ; but under the 1390 

shade of its branches 
Dwells another race, with other customs and 

language. 
Only along the shore of the mournful and misty 

Atlantic 
Linger a few Acadian peasants, whose fathers from 

exile 
Wandered back to their native land to die in its 

bosom. 
In the fisherman^s cot the wheel and the loom are 1395 

still busy ; 
Maidens still wear their Norman caps and their 

kirtles of homespun, 
And by the evening fire repeat Evangeline's story, 
While from its rocky caverns the deep-voiced, 

neighboring ocean 
Speaks, and in accents disconsolate answers the 

wail of the forest. 



l^OTES. 



The first nineteen lines form a setting to the poem. The 
opening stanza gives a mournful background of nature; the 
second stanza, by means of skilful interrogation and answer, 
and by appropriate figures, tells the fate of the Acadians; 
while the concluding stanza states the theme of the poem, u A 
Tale of Love in Acadie," and the author's point of view, " The 
beauty and strength of woman's devotion." 

Line 1. Primeval. Belonging to the first ages. Literally, 
a forest which has never been cut. 

3. Druids of eld. Druids of old. The Druids were the 
priests of Ancient Gaul and Britain. The pines resemble the 
Druids in their voices ; the harpers, in their appearance. 

PART FIRST. 

Canto I. 

20. Basin of Minas. A bay upon the northern coast of 
Nova Scotia, opening into the Bay of Fundy. At the left of 
the Basin is Cape Blomidon. 

34. Normandy. * The original Acadians came from Nor- 
mandy between 1633 and 1638. 

39. Kirtle. A kirtle is a jacket with a skirt attached. 

121 



122 L ONGFELL O W. 

Rowena, in Ivanhoe, wears " an undergo wn and kirtle of pale 
green silk. 1 ' 

40. Distaff. A staff for holding the flax from which the 
thread is drawn in hand spinning. A loom is a machine used 
in weaving cloth; and a shuttle is an instrument which passes 
the thread from side to side of the cloth, between the threads 
which run lengthwise to the loom. 






49. Angelus. A bell rung morning, noon, and night, to hid 
Roman Catholics recite a prayer commemorating the mes- 
sage of the Angel of the Lord to the Virgin Mary. It would 
add to the interest of the lesson could the teacher show the 
class any one of the noted pictures of the Annunciation, and 
the picture of the Angelus by Millet. 

72. Hyssop. The twigs of this -plant were used to sprinkle 
the congregation in the Mosaic ceremony of purification. 

74. Chaplet of beads. A string of beads for enumerating 
prayers; a rosary. Missal. A book containing the service of 

the Mass. 

l M. Seraglio. Primarily, that part of the house to which 
the Turks restrict women ; secondarily, the women them- 

S('l\ I 

95. Strutted. Notice the good use of Bpecific verbs in 
Longfellow's descriptions. The turkey struts, not walks. 
The barns are bursting, no1 simply full. The doves murmur, 
the weathercocks rattle. Such specific verbs give life to the 
picture. Cock. An allusion to the crowing of the cock directly 
after Peter's thrice-repeated denial of Jesus. Matthew xxvi. 
69-75. 



u NOTES. 123 

118. Craft of the smith. In classic mythology Hephaestus 
and Vulcan were honored because they made the armor of the 
gods. In mediaeval times the smith was respected on account 
of his service to men of war, as, for example, Harry of the 
Wynd in the Fair Maid of Perth. 

In connection with this description of Basil and his shop, it 
would be well to read the Village Blacksmith. This poem, 
published in 1841, was a great favorite; and when in 1876 the 
chestnut-tree, under which the smithy once stood, was cut 
down, the children of Cambridge had a chair made of the wood, 
and presented it to Longfellow on his seventy-second birthday. 
The following year, in his last volume, Ultima Thule, Long- 
fellow replied to the children in the poem From My Ann- 
Chair. 

122. Plain-song. A chant used in church service, with 
tones unvaried and of equal length. 

137. Wondrous stone. A French story of a stone with 
which the mother swallow is able to restore the sight of her 
blind fledglings. 

144. Saint Eulalie. A saint of the Roman Catholic Church. 
According to the French proverb, if the sun shines upon her 
day (February 12th), there will be apples and cider in 
abundance. 

This canto is the introduction to the story. Its arrangement 
is both simple and skilful. After treating of Grand-Pre, with 
its pleasant situation and contented people, it passes on to a 
general description of the Bellefontaines, father and daughter. 
The third stanza pictures their home, and the fourth describes 
Evangeline at greater length and in connection with Gabriel. 



124 



LONGFELLOW. 



Canto II. 

149. . Scorpion. The eighth constellation of the zodiac, or 
imaginary belt on the heavens, through which the sun appears 
to move. The sun seems to enter the Scorpion about Octo- 
ber 23d. 

153. Jacob. Genesis xxxii. 24. 

159. Summer of All-Saints. All-Saints Day is Novem- 
ber 1st. 

170. The Persian. Xerxes is said to have hung golden or- 
naments upon a plane-tree, a species of sycamore much admired 
by the ancients. This is the first purely literary reference in 
the poem. Is it helpful ? The object of comparing one thing 
with another is to make the first one clearer, more evident. 
Do the trees glitter more brightly in our eyes because they 
" flashed like the plane-tree " ? An excellent statement of the 
list' of figures may be found in English Composition, Chapter 
VI L, by Barrett Wendell. 

176. Bearing the bell. It is customary to tie a bell to one 
cow, in order that the herd may be traced in ease it wanders 
from the pasture. 

Notie > the specific features which form this picture, the 
hi ifer, the important watch-dog, the wains, the milkmaids; 
all the noisy life of the farmyard, followed by silence. 

217. Clock clicked. The representation in words of the 
sound is common in Evangeline. For example, line 163, 
"whir of wings," and line 420, "with summons sonorous 
sounded the bell." 

226. Art thou. The Acadians, according to the French 
custom, use the second person singular in addressing friends, 









NOTES. 125 

L. 

238. Gaspereau. A river flowing into the Basin of Minas 
to the west and north of Grand-Pre\ 

239. All are commanded. " We therefore order and strictly 
enjoin all the inhabitants, both old men and young men as 
well as all the lads of ten years of age, to attend at the church 
of Grand-Pre', on Friday, the 5th instant, at three o'clock in 
the afternoon, that we may impart to them what we are or- 
dered to communicate to them : declaring that no excuse will 
be admitted on any pretence whatever, on pain of forfeiting 
goods and chattels in default of real estate." This proclama- 
tion was issued September 2d, by Lieutenant-Colonel Winslow. 

240. His Majesty. George II., 1727-1760. 

242. Many surmises of evil. "The proclamation should be 
so ambiguous that the object for which they were to assemble 
could not be discerned ; and so peremptory in its terms as to 
ensure implicit obedience." — Haliburton. 

249. Louisburg on Cape Breton, Beau S£jour on the neck 
of land connecting Acadia with the mainland, and Port Royal 
at the outlet of the Annapolis River, had all been taken from 
the French by the English. It was in Beau Se^jour, captured 
June 12th, 1755, that three hundred Acadians were found 
among the French troops, 

259. The marriage contract is a legal document, drawn 
by a notary, the authorized officer, in which the amount of 
property of the contracting persons is stated, and specifications 
are made as to its use and descent. It is further described in 
lines 333-337. 

260. Built are the house and the barn. "As soon as a 
young man arrived to the proper age the community built him 



126 LONGFELLOW. 

a house, broke up the lands about it, and supplied him with all 
the necessaries of life for a twelve-month." — Halliburton. 
State the theme of each stanza and of the canto as a whole. 

Canto III. 

272. Supernal. More than human. 

J74. Heard his watch tick. A good description because 
natural. 

27-Y Times of the war. The petition which the Acadians 
sent to George II, contains this sentence : "After the settle- 
ment of Halifax (174!)) Rene' Leblanc was taken prisoner by 
the Indians when actually travelling in your Majesty's service; 
bis house pillaged, and himself carried to the French foil, 
from whence lie did not recover his liberty, but with great 
difficulty after four years' captivity.'" 

280. Loup-garou. A were-wolf. A human being with 
power t<> transform himself into a wolf. A goblin was a 

kindly spirit especially fond of horses. L6tiche was the spirit 
of a child who, dying unchristened, was doomed to wander at 
nighl in the shape of a small white animal. 

284. The oxen talked. A i old belief among the Continental 

peasantry that upon Christmas Eve the birds and animals talk, 
and worship the infant Saviour. Reference is ma.de to the 
belief in Hamlet : 

" Sonic say, that ever 'gainst that season conies 
Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated 
The bird of dawning Bingeth all night long." 

302. A story. An old Florentine story. Why does Long- 
fellow introduce this story ? What similarity is there between 
the fate of the orphan girl and that of the Acadians ? 



NOTES. 127 

326. Silenced. Basil wanted justice from men and in this 
world. In this conversation in regard to the English, Benedict 
laughs away the idea of impending trouble and Rene' Leblanc 
reassures himself with a tale of future justice. Thus the com- 
ing disaster is simply foreshadowed. It is led up to, and yet it 
comes as a surprise in Canto IV. 

344. Draught-board. Checker-board. 

352. Blossomed the stars. In an earlier poem Longfellow 

wrote of the — 

" flowers so blue and golden 
Stars, that in earth's firmament do shine." 

In line 352 he reverses the figure and in so doing belittles ' ' the 
infinite meadows of heaven," "the stars," and "the angels." 
It must have been to such lines that Mr. Stedman referred when 
he wrote, "There are flaws, and petty fancies, and homely 
passages in Evangeline." 

354. Curfew. 

" Cover the embers, 

And put out the light ; 
Toil comes with the morning 
And rest with the night." 

Longfellow's poem, The Curfew. 

" The curfew tolls the knell of parting day." 

Gray. 

381, Hagar. Hagar, with her son Ishmael, was driven out 
of Abraham's tent. — Genesis xxi. 12, 21. It is not probable 
that she went forth in serenity or in beauty. Compare with 
these lines the following verses descriptive of a similar scene : 

" To behold the wandering moon, 
Biding near her highest noon, 



128 LONGFELLOW. 

Like one that had been lead astray 
Through the heaven's wide pathless way ; 
And oft as if her head she bow'd 
Stooping through a fleecy cloud." 

Milton. 

11 The moving moon went up the sky 

And nowhere did abide, 

Softly she was going up 

And a star or two beside." 

Coleridge. 

Notice the figures of speech and the sources from which they 
are drawn. Select the best, and explain why they are the best. 
What is gained by the reference to Norman and Acadian super- 
stition? 

Canto IV. 

382. Next morn. September 5th. 

388. Came the peasants. For what purposes '? 

413. Tous les Bourgeois. The Citizens of Chartres and the 

Carillon of Dunkirk were popular songs. The words of the 

first are : — 

You remember cybele, 
Wise the seasons to unfold ; 
Very fair, said men, was she, 
Even when her years grew old. 

Chorus. 

A grandame, yet by goddess birth, 
She kept BWeet eyes, a color warm, 
And held through everything a charm 
Fast like the earth. 

The words of the second are : — 

Reckless and rash, 
Take heed for the flash 



NOTES. 129 

u 

Of mine anger, 'tis just 
To lay thee with its blows in the dust. 

— Your threat I defy. 

— What! You would be I ! 

Come, coward ! I'll show — 
• You tremble? No, no ! 

— I'm choking with rage ! 

— A fig for your rage ! 

This betrothal feast is entirely French. No such open-air 
rejoicing — of old and young, rich and poor, with eating, sing- 
ing, and dancing — could have taken place among the English. 

422. Thronged was the church. "In obedience to the 
summons four hundred and eighteen men assembled." — Hali- 
burton. 

430. Their Commander. Lieutenant-Colonel John Wins- 
low of Marshfield, Massachusetts, great grandson of Edward 
Winslow of Mayflower fame. Reference is made to Colonel 
Winslow and to the few Acadians who settled near Plymouth, 
by Jane G. Austin, in her book, Dr. LeBaron and His Daugh- 
ters : A Story of the Old Colony. 

432. You are convened. Colonel Winslow' s speech was as 
follows : — " The part of duty I ani now upon, though neces- 
sary, is very disagreeable to my natural make and temper, as I 
know it must be grievous to you, who are of the same species ; 
but it is not my business to animadvert, but to obey such orders 
as I receive, and therefore, without hesitation, shall deliver you 
his Majesty's orders and instructions, namely ; that your lands 
and tenements, cattle of all kinds and live stock of all sorts, 
are forfeited to the Crown ; with all other your effects, saving 
your money and household goods, and you yourselves to be 
removed from this his Province. Thus it is peremptorily his 



130 L ON G FELL O IP. 

Majesty's orders, that the whole Trench inhabitants of these 
districts be removed ; and I am, through his Majesty's good- 
ness, directed to allow you liberty to carry off your money and 
household goods, as many as you can without discommoding 
the vessels you go in. I shall do everything in my power that 
all your goods be secured to you, and that you are not molested 
in carrying them off ; also, that whole families shall go in the 
same vessel, and make this remove, which I am sensible must 
give you a great deal of trouble, as easy as his Majesty's ser- 
vice will admit ; and hope that, in whatever part of the world 
you may fall, you may be faithful subjects, a peaceable and 
happy people. I must also inform you that it is his Majesty's 
pleasure that you remain in security under the inspection and 
direction of the troops 1 have the honor to command." — HcUi- 
burton. 

Colonel Winslow's feeling in regard to his disagreeable duty 
may be of interest to the reader. In his diary he refers to' the 
memorable 5th of September as, u a day of great fatigue and 
trouble." In one of his letters he writes, u This affair is more 
grievous to me than any service I was ever employed in," and 
in another, "I know they deserve all and more than they feel, 
yet it hurts me to hear them weeping and wailing and gnashing 
of teeth. I am in hopes our affairs will soon put on another 
face, and we gel transports, and I rid of the worst piece of ser- 
vice that ever I was in." 

442. As, when the air. An excellent figure descriptive of 
the effect of the announcement. Notice that the s:> of line 447, 
gathers up all the particulars of the five preceding lines, and 
makes them describe the verb descended. 

4~)(). Tyrants of England. This was not an edict of George 
II. Lawrence, the governor of Nova Scotia, should have what- 
ever credit may be derived from it. 



NOTES. 131 

466. Tocsin. An alarm bell. ' 

476. " Father, forgive them." Luke xx$. 34. 

484. Ave Maria. A prayer to the Virgin Mary. : 

486. Elijah. < ' Elijah went np by a whirlwind into heaven ' ' 
2 Kings n. 11. 

498. Ambrosial. Ambrosia was the food of the gods, hence 
anything ambrosial should be heavenly or delicious. 

501. Charity. Is this according to human nature ? What 
qualities does Longfellow lose, and what does he gain by en- 
dowing Evangeline with such virtue ? 

507. Prophet. Moses. Exodus xxxiv. 29-35. 

513. Grave of the living. The church. 

514. Slowly. Notice in the remaining lines of the canto 
the position of the adverbs, -slowly," -empty," -sadly" 
"loud," -keenly," and of the verbs, - smouldered " and 
- soothed." They are taken from their usual place and put 
first m the sentence. To the emphasis of position is added 
that of voice which would naturally fall upon them. It is evi- 
dent that Longfellow wished to give them force and prominence. 

518. In the dead of night. This line suggests Tennyson's 
" In the dead unhappy night when the rain is on the roof." 

Within what period of time do the events of this canto take 
place ? Point out the contrasts in the section. Notice Long- 
fellow's use of historical material. 

Canto V. 
524. Fifth day. September 10th. 
546. Foremost the young men. -The young men were 



132 LONGFELLOW. 

ordered to go first on board the vessels. This they instantly 
and peremptorily refused to do, declaring that they would not 
leave their parents ; but expressed a willingness to comply with 
the order, provided they were permitted to embark with their 
families. This request was immediately rejected, and the 
troops were ordered to fix bayonets and advance toward the 
prisoners, a motion which had the effect of producing obedi- 
ence on the part of the young men, who forthwith commenced 
their march. The road from the chapel to the shore, just one 
mile in length, was crowded with women and children ; who, 
on their knees, greeted them as they passed with their tears 
and their blessings ; while the prisoners advanced with slow 
and reluctant steps, weeping, praying, and singing hymns. 
This detachment was followed by the seniors, who passed 
through the same scene of horror and distress." — Ualihnrton. 

575. Refluent ocean fled away. Repetition of ideas. 

">7i>. Leaguer. The camp of a besieging force. 

587. Lowing they waited. "For several successive even- 
ings the cattle assembled around the smouldering ruins." — 
HcUiburton. 

591. But on the shores. Contrast this with the peaceful 
evening scenes in Grand-Pre and in Evangeline's home, de- 
scribed in Cantos II. and III. 

507. Paul. A reference to Paul's ministrations to the in- 
habitants of Melita during the three months of his shipwreck. 

605. " Benedicite ! " Ben-e-dis'-i-te ! An invocation of a 
blessing — a benediction. 

608. Awful. Notice the correct use of this word. The mis- 
ery is so great as to fill the priest with awe. 



NOTES. 133 

u 

615. Titan-like. The Titans were giants who made war 
upon the gods. 

621. Gleeds. Plot, burning coals. "In the district of 
Minas alone there were destroyed two hundred and fifty-live 
homes, two hundred and seventy-six barns, one hundred and 
fifty-five out-houses, eleven mills, and one church." — Halibur- 
ton. The village was destroyed for the most part between Sep- 
tember 5th and 10th. Why does Longfellow change the date ? 
Notice the skill of the description. First the account of the 
fire, made more vivid by the figures of speech ; then its effect 
upon the cattle, and lastly upon Benedict. 

640. Motionless lay his form. In the original tale there is 

nothing said of Evangeline's father. Why is he introduced 

into the story ? And why, having been introduced, is he 
killed ? 

657. Without bell or book. The bell was tolled to mark 
the passage of the soul to the other world. The book was the 
service-book. 

659* Lo ! with a mournful, sound. Notice the metrical as 
well as the poetical beauty of the concluding lines. 

Point out any particulars in which Longfellow varies from 
history, and give the reason for his so doing. Show how the 
misery in this section increases. 

PART SECOND. 

Canto I. 

678. Friendless, homeless, hopeless. Parallel construction 
is used frequently in Evangeline, often of a single word in one 



134 LONGFELLOW. 

verse, as in lines 689-727, and often of a phrase in succeeding 
verses, as in lines 074 and 675, and lines 753 and 754. 

675. Father of Waters. The Mississippi. 

670. Drags them. A reference to the delta at the mouth 
of the Mississippi, formed by the mud washed down by the 
current. 

697. Sat by some grave. This line and the next are said 
to be the ones from which Faed took his conception of Evan- 
geline. Faed was an English artist, and painted the face of 
Evangeline from that of a Manchester working-girl. His 

brother engraved the picture, and it became popular both in 
England and in the United States. 

690. Sometimes a rumor. Notice the skill with which 
Longfellow leads up to the airy hand. A rumor, a hearsay, 
an inarticulate whisper; and last and most indefinite, an airy 
hand. 

705. Coureurs-des-bois. French guides, who conducted the 
fur-traders through the woods and along the lakes. 

707. Voyageur. A river boatman*. • 

713. St. Catherine. A patron saint of virgins. Hence to 
braid St. Catherine's tresses is to devote oneself to a single 
life. 

71 ( .>. "0 daughter!" The priest's words, together with 
Evangeline's counsel to Gabriel, in Canto V., Part First, and a 
few lines in Canto V., Fart Second, express the moral lesson of 
the poem. 

7-*>2. Shards. Broken pieces of rough substance. 

733. Muse. One of the nine goddesses who presided over 
poetry and sun-. 



NOTES. 135 

735. But as a traveller. By means of this excellent figure 
Longfellow states his plan for the rest of the poem. 

This canto is an introduction to Part Second. It bridges 
the interval between Parts First and Second, gives a general 
account of Evangeline's life, states the moral which Long- 
fellow derives from it, and points out the plan for the remain- 
der of the poem. 

Canto II. 

741. Beautiful River. The signification of the Indian name 
Ohio. 

749. Kith. An obsolete term, used only in connection with 
kin. 

750. Acadian coast. In the early months of 1765 more 
than six hundred Acadians, attracted by the French popula- 
tion of Louisiana, came to New Orleans. At first they found 
settlements at Attakapas and Opelousas, and later they ex- 
tended their colonies along both sides of the Mississippi as far 
as Baton Kouge. Hence that part of the river-bank was often 
called the Acadian coast. 

751. Father Felician. It would seem from this that Evan- 
geline and the priest had not been Separated. 

753. Adown. Such archaic forms, adown, anon, oft, olden, 
eld, are used infrequently by Longfellow, and usually for met- 
rical reasons. 

764. Golden coast. Southern Louisiana, but above Baton 
Rouge. 

766. Plaquemine. A creek running westward from the 
Mississippi, about a hundred and ten miles north of New 
Orleans. 



136 LONGFELLOW. 

769. Over their heads. The remaining lines of the stanza 
are particularly noticeable. Head them aloud and observe their 
melody. Notice the perfection of the description, the choice in 
details, the adjectives, the specific verbs, and last, as a finish- 
ing touch, the effect of this sombre beauty on the spirits of the 
voyagers. 

774. Owl. 

•• Save that from yonder ivy-mantled tower 
The moping owl doth to the moon complain." 

dray. 
782. Mimosa. The sensitive plant. 

821. Ladder of Jacob. Genesis xxviii. 12. 

84(3. Idle. The original meaning is useless, vain, silly. 

11 Tears, idle tears, 
I know not what they mean." 

/ 1 nnyaon, 

85c>. Teche. A creek flowing out of the Atchafalaya to 
the south and west. 

878. Bacchantes. Worshippers of Bacchus who work 
themselves into a frenzy at the festivals of the god. 

State the course of tin- travellers, the season of the year, and 
the time occupied in the journey. This canto is usually de- 
scribed as a series of pictun How many pictures should you 
make of it? Point out the <let;iils of the different pictures. 
What gives them human interest ? Is then* anj appeal to any 
other sense than that of sight ? La there anything in the cant" 
which could not have been obtained from books? In what 
does Longfellow's ability in writing it consist ? It is suggested 
in connect'on with this canto that the teacher read to the class 



NOTES. 137 

'Tennyson's description of the land where it is always after- 
noon, in the Lotus Eaters. 

Canto III. 

889. Mystic mistletoe. When the Druids found mistletoe 
upon their sacred tree, the oak, they thought it a gift of the 
gods, and cut it down from the tree with great ceremony. A 

p white-robed priest severed it with a golden sickle. A second 
priest standing below received it in the folds of his white robe. 
Two white bulls were then sacrificed and sometimes children. 
Because of these pagan rites the mistletoe was debarred from 
English church decorations for centuries, and was scarcely men- 
tioned in verse until the time of Herrick. 

890. Yule-tide. Christmas time. 

* 

914. Sombrero. A large soft felt hat. 

952. Adayes. A town in northern Texas. 

953. Ozark Mountains. These are ridges of southern Mis- 
souri that extend into Arkansas and Indian Territory. 

956. Fates. The three Fates were Clotho, Lachesis, and 
Atropos. One held the distaff, another spun the thread of 
life, and the third cut it. Basil must have used the term in its 
general sense, circumstances. 

960. Michael. He had evidently gone down to the boat to 
welcome the other Acadians. 

961. Olympus. The mountain on which the gods lived. 

968. Gossips. Originally a god-father or -mother, hence a 
companion, an intimate friend. 

970. Ci-devant. The French for former. Why not use 
former ? 



138 LONGFELLOW. 

984. Natchitoches. A town on the Red River* 
1009. Creoles. Natives of Louisiana and the West Indies, 
whose descent is partly European, — either Spanish or French. 

1033. Carthusian. The Carthusians are an exceedingly 
austere order of monks, who vow almost perpetual silence, and 
who talk together but once a week. 

1041-44. Over her head. These four lines seem to mean 
that man no longer admires those works of God to which he is* 
accustomed, but worships those only which are seldom seen. 
He worships only when a comet appears blazing in the firma- 
ment like a hand writing on the heavens " Upharsin." The 
last line refers directly to the incident related in the Book of 
Daniel, v. 5-30. 

1063. Prodigal son. Luke xv. 11-32. 

1064. Foolish virgin. Matthew xxv. 1-13. 

Is there any true likeness between Mary Magdalene bathing 
the feet of Christ, and the flowers exhaling dew beneath the 
rays of the sun ? 

Canto IV. 

1078. The description given in the first stanza is exceed- 
ingly vague. The land could be anywhere east of Utah and 
New Mexico, and south of Colorado and Nebraska. 

1095. Ishmael's children. The American Indians, so called 

because they were driven from their own land and were wan- 
derers. 

1102. Anchorite monk. One who renounces the world and 
secludes himself, usually for religious reasons. 

1114. Fata Morgana. The Italian name for an optical 



NOTES. 139 

delusion supposed, to Jbe wrought by the fairy Morgana, and 
consisting in the appearance of lakes and trees in the midst of 
a desert country. This optical phenomenon is common in the 
southwestern portions of the United States. Longfellow ex- 
pressed it in detail in his poem, Fata Morgana : 

" As the weary traveller sees 
In desert or prairie vast, 
Blue lakes, o'erhung with trees, 
That a pleasant shadow cast." 

1139. Mo wis, Lilinau. Why are these stories introduced ? 
Compare them, in their object, with Bene Leblanc's story in 
Part First. 

1156. Delicious sound. 

" Like to the sound of a hidden brook 

In the leafy month of June." 

Coleridge. 

1167. Mission. The Jesuit priests from France made every 
effort to Christianize the Indians. 

1206. Basil returned. Observe how the characters are 
gradually disposed of. Benedict dies, Father Felician remains 
in Louisiana, Basil goes home, and Evangeline is left alone. 

1207. Slowly. Longfellow wished to emphasize the period 
of 'suspense and waiting. He does it by repeating the adverb, 
by dividing the time into days, and weeks, and months, and by 
indicating the change of season. 

1213. Blood-red ear. "A red ear was typical of a brave 
admirer, and was regarded as a fitting present to some young 
warrior. A crooked ear represented a thief stooping in the 
corn-field. " 



140 LONGFELLOW. 

11 And whene'er some lucky maiden 
Found a red ear in the husking, 
Found a maize-ear red as blood is, 
'Nushka ! ' cried they all together, 
'Nushka ! Vou shall have a sweetheart, 
You shall have a handsome husband ! ' " 



" And whene'er a youth or maiden 
Found a crooked ear in husking, 
Found a maize-ear in the husk 
Blighted, mildewed, or misshapen, 
Then they laughed and Bang together, 
Crept and limped about the eorn-lieltls, 
Ifimicked in their gait and gestun 
Bome Old man, bent almost double, 
Singing singly <>r together : 

4 Wagemin, the thief «-t corn-fields I 
Paimosaid who steals the maize-ear I ' ' 

For further information aboul the [ndian customs in regard 
to corn, see Uiawaika, Section XIII., "Blessing the Corn- 
field." 






1219. Compass-flower. The edges of the lower leaves air 
said to point north ami south. I, ngfellow flrsl described the 
plant as "delicate,' 1 and "on its fragile stalk." After seeing 
one, he changed the adjective to " vigorous," and the phrase 

to u in the houseless wild." 

1226. Asphodel. The flowers of the Klvsian Fields, the 
Greek heaven. Nepenthe. Any potion that produces for- 

getfulness. 

1236. Evangeline went. How long had she remained at 

the mission ? 

It is sometimes well to observe what an author refrains from 



NOTES. 141 

saying. Longfellow restrained Father Felician from uttering 
words of consolation. Evangeline does not express her sorrow 
in words. What is gained, or what is lost, to the poem by this 
reserve ? 

1239. Long years. Longfellow nowhere states the. exact 
number of years. Why, when he is so definite as to time in 
Part First, should he be so indefinite in Part Second ? 

1241. Moravian Missions. Those of the United Brethren 
who settled in various parts of the United States. 

In Cantos III. and IV. notice in what ways the misery of 
Evangeline's search is increased and emphasized. She missed 
Gabriel at first by a few hours, then by a day, a week, and at 
last indefinitely. With each disappointment, the hope by which 
she has been upheld becomes less and less. The few words and 
tears to which she gives way in the beginning gradually cease, 
and she ends her search in silence. 

Canto V. 

1256. Names of the trees. Many of the streets of Phila- 
delphiaare named for trees, — Chestnut, Walnut, Spruce, Pine, 
etc. The Dryads were wood-nymphs. 

1258. There. Evangeline on leaving Acadia had been 
taken to Philadelphia. 

1260. Rene* Leblanc. In the petition sent to George II. by 
the Acadians of Philadelphia, Rene' Leblanc is mentioned 
twice. The first reference has been given, Part First, Canto 
III. The second is as follows, "He was seized, confined, and 
brought away among the rest of the people, and his family, 
consisting of twenty children, and about a hundred and fifty 



142 LONGFELLOW. 

grandchildren, were scattered in different colonies, so that he 
was pnt on shore at New York, with only his wife and two 
youngest children, in an infirm state of health, from whence 
he joined three more of his children at Philadelphia, where he 
died." 

1288. Sister of Mercy. Read Longfellow's poem, Santa 
Filomena, commemorating the services of Florence Nightingale 
to the English soldiers in the Crimean war. 

1292. Watchman. Before the days of police, watchmen 
patrolled the cities. They railed the hour of the night and 
"All's well." 

1208. Pestilence. In 1793 the yellow fever devastated 
Philadelphia. The incidents of the plague are made use of by 
Charles Brockden Brown in his novel Arthur Mervyn. 

1308. Almshouse. Said to he the old Friends' almshouse 
on Walnut Street, now no longer standing. 

1312. " The poor." — Matthew xxvi. 11. 

1355. Hebrew. A reference to the sprinkling of blood upon 
the door by the Hebrews, in order that the angel of Death 
might pass over when he " smote all the first born in the land 
of Egypt."— Exodus xii. 21-28. 

# # # * 

The stanzas of the conclusion are modelled after those of the 
introduction. They give the fate of the Acadians, they strike 
the same minor key, and they make a similar use of nature as 
a background. 



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